fire & ice
by another moment gone
Summary: Multi-chaptered. "I bet I can get her to fall in love with me," he boasts, eying her. Kemp Hurley and Cam Fisher burst out laughing. "Two-hundred bucks are yours if you can do it within three months," Josh Hotz bets. "Done." -another moment gone- *R&R*
1. 27

**fi**re & _i**c**_e

-:-

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My dad died two weeks ago, seeing as it was due to a careless drunk truck driver, I would like to consider it as a simple accident. My parents were divorced (they divorced when I was six) and I was shipped off to live with my mother. Kendra Block—yes _the _Kendra Block, the famous designer of all of New York City's elite.

My dad and I were close, _very_ close. I was his little girl and he never bothered to re-marry since the divorce; he was content with his little girl and his busy company.

So here I am now, a week and a half later, bags at my feet and in my clasped hands, mouth agape.

Kendra had never been much of a talker or really just a mother. She preferred to keep everything business like and very, _very_ neat. She has always been a neat freak.

"This is your room," she says, cell-phone microphone covered with a manicured hand, "Come downstairs when you get settled in and I'll have Isaac show you around." And with that she strides downstairs.

I used to visit her when I was younger; dad would drive me to the airport and Isaac would usually end up meeting me there (considering mom always had some business to take of). Isaac was her chauffeur (although he had always been considered family), and then there was Inez, who was Isaac's wife. They lived and worked for my mother. Inez was Kendra's house-cleaner.

Whenever I visited New York, I had always found myself making comparisons and contrasts between the Upper Eastside and the West-Coast. I visited since I was eight.

I stare blankly at the white room I hadn't been in for literally _years_. Inez, of course, cleaned and dusted it so it didn't feel like it was untouched.

I stopped visiting New York shortly after the age of fourteen.

The room was like a giant life-size iPod. With a small heave, I lifted and began putting away all of my clothes in the ivory wooden dressers and all of my shoes in the walk-in closet. Kendra was never short of money, as it appeared.

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* * *

"Bonjour Mademoiselle Block," Isaac greeted me with his thick French accent, arms wide, standing by the Range Rover.

I ran and hugged him, forgetting just for a moment that I was sixteen.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," he mumbled, hugging me tightly. Inez appeared around the corner of the Range Rover. I shrugged, trying not to cry all over again.

Inez joined our hug and I felt better immediately.

Kendra had never been one for hugs or physical contact.

"This is the school you will be attending: Briarwood Academy." Isaac points at a huge school, similar to a castle. "It's a very good school."

I nod, staring out the window in the passenger seat, tugging the hem of my pea coat.

"When do I start?" I ask, glancing at him.

"Tomorrow," he glances at me worriedly, "Are you ready to attend school Mademoiselle?"

"Yeah."

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-:-

* * *

Sitting on the purple comforter of the queen bed, I whipped out my MacBook Pro. It hummed to life.

"Did you take your medication, Miss Massie?" Inez pokes her head around the corner of my door, a motherly look placating her face.

"Not yet," I admit sheepishly.

Her eyes become firm, "Take your medication. I don't want another trip to the hospital, Miss Massie."

I nod, a small smile forcing its way onto my face. "Yes Inez,"

She shuffles in, kisses my forehead and gives me a small weak smile, for my benefit probably. "I'm sorry about Mister William," she states.

I shrug again, glancing at the white laptop in front of me. "Could've been worse."

Inez nods in agreement and walks out the door.

I pad to the bathroom, the bright lights and see-through glass bowl sinks, the heated tiled floor, the double headed shower—it was all so nice.

I feel lonely as I sit on the toilet, the lid down, staring at my reflection.

"I miss you Daddy," I whisper while looking at my hands. "But I'll stay strong in the meantime; I took my medication and I promise there won't be any reason for this sickness to spread."

Tomorrow was going to be absolute hell.

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-:-

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Multi-chapter story, YAY!

Reviews would be lovely and motivating.(:

What do you think? I'm rusty

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As always,

-another moment gone-


	2. Story of a Girl

**fi**re & _i__**c**_e

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It has never _once_ been very simple with things in my life. When I was four, my dad had a heart attack and Kendra and I stayed in the big empty house, doing our own things. (Kendra talking business on her Blackberry and me doodling with Crayola markers); luckily it was a minor heart attack. When I was six dad and Kendra divorced, choosing to do so without the adult-manner. It was a nasty divorce dad always told me. When I was nine, dad's mom died. He was devastated but I still remember the look on my grandfather's face. The look on his face was as clear to any nine year old that he was heartbroken. Kendra attended the funeral with solemn eyes and Dior sunglasses perched on the bridge of her nose. She said her condolences to dad and left directly from the funeral to the airport. By the age of ten, (shortly after my tenth birthday, which Kendra took the liberty of sending me a pack of gum and credit cards) Granddad Block died in his sleep. Dad said he went to heaven peacefully. When I was thirteen, Kendra and dad got into a bitter fight when she came to give me a pet fish for my birthday. The fight started with its usual tense banter, then led to its typical hushed angry whispering, then finally loud bursting yelling and some plates being broken.

And by the age of fourteen, the doctors found a brain tumor growing and expanding in my skull.

* * *

-:-

* * *

I did my best the entire first day of school to ignore everyone with the most utter politeness as possible. The teachers did their usual first-day of school rants and considering how Briarwood was a somewhat close school, everyone seemed to know I was coming. It was awful to say at the least.

Some Derrick Harlington or whatever guy walked up to me with a cocky grin and asked me to the movies. I politely pointed out the fact that I could be a crazy bitch and end up being some stalker. He played it cool though (after hiding his hurt from being rejected) and told me 'maybe some other time then' and turned to saunter, yes, _saunter_ away.

Then there was Josh Hotz. His last name did not do that boy justice of course though. He simply laughed when Derrick returned back to their little 'clique' and told the rest of the guys what happened.

I had simply shrugged it off but not before staring on last time greedily at that attractive Spanish boy.

This girl Dylan Marvil was it? She told me that I needed to stay away from Derrick Carrington or whoever the hell he is, and that I better listen to her or _else_. I had just laughed in her face and her cronies' faces and replied, "Or else what? You're going to whack me with your designer purses? Or are you going to blackmail me with absolutely _false _information?" She had huffed, turning bright as her red hair and stormed off with her followers right at her flanks trying to console her.

Gingers.

* * *

**Day two **

"Is what I'm hearing true?" A tall blonde asks, stepping in line with my fast pace to English.

"Is what true?" I ask curiously, ignoring my rule not to speak to anyone.

"Did you really own The Pretty Committee?" She has _huge_ robin colored eyes, I note.

"Er?"

"The redhead and her evil demons," the blonde flatly says.

"Oh…I guess."

I take a seat in English as the blonde cackles, her platinum locks swaying. "I'm Skype Hamilton," she sticks out a small hand.

I shake her hand, curious once again. "I'm Massie Block."

"They're a bunch of bitches," she says, taking a seat next to me. "Don't even worry about Dylan Marvil; she thinks she's better than everyone else because her Mommy's famous."

"Oh," I reply, looking down.

"Hello students," Mr. Myner greets with a big grin on his face. "Now we are going to be starting Romeo and Juliet,"

"I _hate _love-stories," I grumble. Skye chuckles next to me, nodding her head in agreement.

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dh;

It was a bet, I swear. Kemp didn't think I would actually do it, but I asked the new chick out on a date. And can you believe it? She said _no!_

She rejected _me_—Derrick fucking Harrington! I'm literally a boss. I'm _the_ man. Was she naïve or just plain dumb to reject me?

My ego was seriously wounded.

Josh found it to be the funniest thing in the world while I tried not to sock him in the ribs. And of course, Cam and Plovert began their placing bets.

"I'm raising my bet," Cam had announced, a huge smile on his dumb face. "One-fifty bucks to _two-hundred,_"

I was angry to say at the least.

That entire time, brunette girl ignored my stare with her freaky amber colored eyes, while her stare always flickered from her converses to Josh. Oh please. I'm so much better looking than Joshua Hotz! (Even if his last name is cooler than mine.)

"What was the trigger cause for World War I, Harrington?"

I'm knocked out my trance. "Er," I stammer. "Wasn't it because this guy was shot?"

Mrs. Puck glares, "Detention after school. See you at 2:20."

"Seriously?" I ask incredulously. "I have practice at 2:30!"

"The detention's an hour, I can make it two if you'd like," she replies, daggers in her beady eyes.

"No, Ma'am," I mutter.

"Good, now back to class…"

Damnit.

-:-

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Thank you for all your other reviews. I love reading them.

Reviews are fun.

(;

-another moment gone-


	3. disloyal order of water buffaloes

**fi**re & _i__**c**_e

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School was becoming a routine and so was sitting with Skye Hamilton at lunch and in classes (despite my personal rule.)

I did my best not to cause any trouble or alarm towards Kendra when I was home and I did my best to ignore that Harrington kid (he would not take 'no' for an answer.)

He always dropped these little hints about how I totally made a mistake, or his friends would always hint that I made a mistake saying no to Derrick Harrington. The only mistake I made was even being polite towards this kid.

But what really got my attention was Joshua Hotz. He was the cutest (and good looking) guy I've ever laid my eyes on. He was about six feet tall, much taller than me, and he was one of the stars of Briarwood Academy's finest soccer team: The Tomahawks.

"Do you play soccer?" Skye asks me as we sit down for lunch.

I laugh, "Soccer is fun. I'm not very great at it though,"

"You should try out for the team," Skye encourages, her blue eyes lighting up. "I'm trying out too!"

I think for a moment.

"There are cuts, what if I get cut?" I chew on the PB&J in front of me. Skye takes a sip of her Arnold Palmer.

"Then you get cut—not the end of the world," she shrugs.

"When are tryouts?" I think again for a second; do I have a doctor appointment coming up anytime soon?

"Two weeks from today," she bites her slice of cheese pizza. "We can work out over break."

I almost say no, out of pure habit, but why not? I don't have my whole life ahead of me so why the hell not?

"Okay," I agree while a smile blooms on her face. Skye is a beautiful girl; blonde hair and blue eyes, tall, skinny… guys stare whenever she walks down the hallway. I feel like a wallflower next to her. Why would she befriend the new girl?

"There's this party tonight," she whispers, glancing around the cafeteria. "See Josh Hotz?" She points to the Spanish boy and I act like I don't know who he is even though he's been on my mind since first period.

"The brunette?"

She nods, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her diamond studded ear. "That's him."

I turn to look at her, blushing when Josh's eyes meet my lazy stare. How embarrassing. "What about him?" I ask in a hushed voice.

"He's having a party tonight. You should go with me. It's a back to school year party; it'll be one of the best parties you go to—no doubt. He throws the best parties."

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Josh Hotz sits next to me in Bio; one of my most new favorite classes.

"Party boy, huh?" I blurt bluntly. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks and I bet he can see it too. He turns to look from his notebook to glance at me, those dark brown eyes grinning.

He smirks, "You heard about it." It wasn't a question but rather a statement that caused my blush to deepen even more.

"Someone told me," I allow. I surprise myself by smiling broadly at him, for once I feel confident to talk to this boy.

"You should come," he says, his grin matching mine. "I'm sure someone there would love seeing you there," he mysteriously mutters, a faint frown appearing on his features. What was that supposed to mean?

"Huh?"

Josh shakes his head, hair falling into his eyes. He looks so cute. "Never mind. See you there?"

I smile shyly while bobbing my head.

"Great, Mass."

Did I ever tell him my name?

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dh;

"I have Massie Block coming to my house tonight," Josh proudly announces while taking a seat at our table.

"Massie?" I spit out in disbelief. "Dude!"

"I think Josh should join this bet," Kemp puts in, a greedy smirk growing in his Cheshire grin.

"Me too," Cam agrees.

Josh looks at me for a moment, his stupid pretty-boy features brightening. "I think I will," he adds.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. "Why would you do that? You don't _like_ her, do you?" I strain to hide the irritation in my voice.

"She's cute," is all Josh admits.

"Josh!"

They all laugh while I groan aloud. "This sucks,"

"Why? It's not like she showed any interest anyway," Plovert says with a mouth full of pizza.

"True that!" Josh laughs.

I blush out of anger—_not embarrassment._

"Tonight I'll get Massie Block to notice me," I cockily state. "She'll be on her hands and knees for me soon enough."

The boys just whoop while I rapidly think of ways to get her to notice me. It's hard though because half the male population stare at her with lust in their eyes. But I _am _Derrick Harrington after all.

"Derry?" Dylan Marvil whines from behind.

"What do you want Dylan?" I ask impatiently, watching her lead her followers to table #18. 'Their' table.

"Why didn't you save me a seat?" She pouts while pointing for Claire Lyons to fetch a chair for her—_c_razy ginger.

"Why would I do that?" I ask lazily, smirking at the boys who stare enviously across the cafeteria.

My scoping lands on the feisty brunette I asked out a few days ago. I've been trying to get my friends to convince her that she should ask me out but she doesn't show any interest.

Plovert's right for the first time in his entire life.

Times _were _changing.

I watch her distractedly. She's sitting with Skye Hamilton, a blonde dancer chick that the boys think is hot. She's talking and then all of a sudden she turns to look in my direction where Skye points her.

Is she meeting my stare?

I blush furiously and turn away to act like I'm paying any attention to Claire's whininess towards Cam and Dylan's glare in Massie's direction. What is up with these girls?

But my biggest question was, _why the hell does Massie Block not find me sexy? _

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R&R?

Thanks for the reviews!(:

-another moment gone-


	4. it's so loud in my head

**fi**re & _i__**c**_e

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dh;

As expected, Josh Hotz knew how to throw a fantastic riveting party where hot girls got drunk and danced on his mom's fine ivory wooden tables, boys chanted for their fellow classmates to chug from the keg, and the main place where I'm going to get Massie Block to notice me.

(I can't lose this bet. The guys would _never_ let it die.)

The music was earsplitting and I could practically feel the sweat rise to the surface. But as usual, it was not the slightest bit intimidating.

"Hey Derrick!" Dylan squeals while practically jumping me.

"Hi Dylan," I barely acknowledge the lone fact that her cleavage is practically shoved up my face but instead, my eyes are landed upon the brunette who's been the latest discussion in the Tomahawk's dirty-locker room talk.

I hear the redhead beside me groan in pure annoyance. "God, why is she even here?"

I whip my head back to glare at this girl, "Cool it Marvil."

She huffs, throws her hair behind her shoulder and struts off to probably sulk to her little cronies.

I advance on this Massie girl. "Hey, Block,"

She looks sorely disappointed to see me. "Derrick," she says in her polite voice.

"Can I get you a drink?" I ask, ignoring the dancer chick beside Massie.

"Hey, it's Josh!" Skye squeals. She glides over to my friend and I feel like punching a wall. The look on Massie's face is clear enough that she has the hots for Hotz.

Damnit.

"No thanks," she brushes me off quickly and saunters over to where Skye and Josh are striking up conversation. I run a hand through my hair and try to think of ways to get this girl to notice me.

"Josh is _so_ going to win," Cam boasts while his mismatched eyes blink. He's got this freakish one blue and one green eye thing going on; the chicks dig it for some reason.

"Shut up," I hiss through clenched teeth, glaring at Josh as he makes Massie Block blush for the _hundredth _time already.

"Want a little advice, Harrington?" Danny Robins approaches us, a beer in hand.

"Why would I want advice from _you_?" Danny and I have been close friends since, like, third grade.

"'Cause clearly your plan isn't working," he smirks with white never-needed-teeth. I glower.

"What's your advice, Robbins?"

"Try being her friend. Or knight in shining armor,"

I ponder.

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mb;

"Wow," I comment. "Everyone likes to drink."

Skye nods enthusiastically, her blue eyes sparkling in the dim room. The music is pounding so loudly I struggle to hear Skye's next words.

"I think Josh likes you," she shouts over the music, taking a seat on the couch.

"Me?"

"Yeah," she says loudly trying to overpower the music. I take a seat next to her. Josh's house is beautiful. It has a whole Spanish-esque.

"Why do you say that?" I ask, hating the interest that rings in my voice.

"Hey be right back," Skye gets up to down another beer.

"Hey hot-stuff," this random guy says in a greasy tone.

"I'm not interested," I state calmly. I get up to walk out the door to catch some fresh air. The cool evening's breeze tousles my hair and cools down my flaming cheeks.

"Clearly you are," he drunkenly insists, wrapping an arm around my waist.

"Let go." I demand, trying to mask the panic in my voice. Everyone's inside or out back. No one but me and this creepy guy.

"But you wouldn't _mind_ if we had a little fun would you?" He mocks.

I close my eyes for a moment and will myself not to scream. This guy was huge, burly. He clearly was part of the football team and clearly he was not from Briarwood Academy.

It happens so fast I don't even understand.

One minute this pedophile's lips are crashed against mine, the next he's wobbling away from me with a hand pressed against his eye.

"Are you okay?" Derrick Harrington asks me with very sincere eyes.

I blinked several times, trying to figure out why my life had to be such a _damn cliché_.

"Yes, Derrick. I'm fine." I spit with irritation. I have no idea why but he was making me furious. "I could've handled him myself," I growl. "I don't need you swooping in my business."

The burly creeper guy teeters and falls to the ground still in a drunken haze. I turn my gaze to look at Derrick. He has very brown eyes. They're shining under this pale moon. Cliché…again.

"I doubt that," Derrick scoffs while running a hand through his blond shaggy hair. Has he always been this cute? _No, he's a player and he's too conceited. No_.

"Don't," I snap, striding for the doorway.

He grabs my arm before I can storm off dramatically like I had hoped to. "Let go," I command, ripping my arm from his loose grasp.

"Massie," he says from behind me.

I have my hand on the doorknob. It pulses to pull open the shiny doorknob and just walk back into the loud hazy drunken room. But I stand still, not turning around.

"I'm sorry," he quietly says behind me. "I shouldn't have come onto you so strongly."

I turn around slowly, hand still hesitantly near the doorknob.

"You're right," I agree stubbornly.

"Can we start over?" He looks at me with sober eyes. I know he's at least sincere.

"Okay," I agree, preparing to walk back into the party. What if I see Josh again? My stomach flutters with anticipation.

"Hi, my name is Derrick Harrington." I turn around again in surprise, a hint of a smile creeping. He flashes me a bright white straight toothy smile.

"I'm Massie Block," I extend a hand and he shakes his with mine.

At least my life isn't a big enough cliché to get _sparks_ when touching him.

"Nice to meet you," he smiles at me very genuinely, I force myself to turn back to the door.

"You too," I say with a lopsided smile, secretly hating myself for even giving him a smile.

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* * *

"Hi Kendra," I walk in the door into the kitchen. The lights are dim.

She doesn't turn around and as it turns out, there's another person in the house. Another surprise-mystery-man.

She ignores me and continues to drunkenly ravish this stranger against the kitchen counter. Classy, Kendra.

I push my way past them, heading upstairs while stomping angrily.

Her ex-lover died not too long ago; she's already partying?

I tuck myself in bed after brushing my teeth. I pull the blankets over my body and close my eyes for a moment. The moaning and groaning downstairs causes my stomach to have the urge to hurl. I lean over to pick up my iPod.

I stick the ear buds in my ears and turn on _Words I Never Said_ by Lupe Fiasco. I drown them out with the music.

Some things never change, I guess.

-:-

* * *

*R&R*

Please review, I hate receiving "favorite author" or "story alert" without review.  
It's incredibly frustrating.

-another moment gone-


	5. helpless

**fi**re & _i__**c**_e

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School was becoming somewhat unbearably boring. My life seemed to be one big story that was crashing right into the biggest clichéd book in town.

"Soccer tryouts will take place today after school on Charlie-Wakefield in the back of school," Alicia Rivera's slight Spanish accented voice announced over the cafeteria speakers. "Tryouts will be at 3:00—don't be late. This has been Alicia Rivera with the announcements saying, _I heart you_." The speaker clicked off and Skye managed an eye roll.

I cock my head to the side, "What?"

Skye's tiffany shaded eyes took another roll.

"—Hey guys," Danny Robins greets. He takes a seat next to Skye, pecks her cheek, and places his tray on the table. I joke around and cringe.

"Ew," I whine with a laugh.

"Yo, Robbins," a voice behind us called. I knew that voice clearly now; at first it was seriously annoying to hear but now it was just pleasant.

"Harrington," Danny says, pounding fists with Derrick. Derrick takes a seat and shakes the hair out his eyes with a head bob. I glance around as inconspicuously as possible, searching for the boy who's been competing for the better side of my brain.

"Where's Josh?" Skye asks while subtly shooting me a pointed look. I struggle to maintain a non-crimson cheek.

Danny swallows his burger and flicks a pointed finger at the brunet in line getting lunch. Skye nods and sips, sparing me another cocky grin.

I soundlessly challenge myself not to blush when Josh makes his way over to the table with a half-smile on his face. (Of course,) he takes a seat next to me with that grin on his features.

"Did you have fun last night?" He probes. I sip my lemonade and battle myself silently. He looks so cute.

"I know I did," Skye interjects, irises shooting Danny appreciative eyes. The rest of us wince.

Kemp Hurley (biggest pervert), Plovert (follower of Kemp), and Cam Fisher (one-blue-one-green eye) make their way to our table. Since when do they sit with us?

Everyone in the cafeteria turns to stare at our table with curious gazes. I lose my battle and before I know it, my cheeks are flaming and heating up my entire face.

"You're blushing," Josh whispers next to me, his breath hot on my neck. He smells like Ralph Lauren cologne and mint. "Why?"

Of course this causes me to blush harder and more furiously. Mistakenly, I glance in Derrick's direction. His hands are under the table and he's glaring firmly at the untouched food in front him stonily.

"I'm not," I frostily reply. Josh laughs quietly at this and returns to eating his food. I pull a strand of hair out from my ear and try to hide from the pairs of eyes on me.

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* * *

"Lunch was _so embarrassing_," I moan to Skye, face in hands.

Skye takes out her binders. "It wasn't _that_ bad," she sympathizes, a small smile on her lips.

"It was," I mumble. "But wait. Since when are you dating Danny Robbins?"

It was Skye's turn to flush. "Last night," she admits while pulling a white lined piece of paper out.

"Do I want to know?" I trail with a grin.

"We hooked up," she shortly says, crimson deepening on her cheeks.

"Uh huh,"

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* * *

"Girls, we want to _win_. So we are going to do some drills such as, the star drill, and we'll scrimmage. We want to test you on your skill, speed, and agility. Let's go," Coach Murphy announces loudly over the group of girls.

My stomach is in knots. Why? Because the boys are in the bleachers _watching _our tryouts.

"Don't worry," Skye assures. She's intently watching the girls in line in front of us. "Josh already likes you."

It was my turn to roll my eyes.

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dh;

"This should be interesting," Cam munches on Doritos. I nod in agreement.

Massie Block plays soccer? Who would've guessed that she does sports?

"Josh you're going to win this bet," Kemp states while eyeing the girls who are forced to be skins instead of shirts for the scrimmage.

Shit. Massie's _skins_?

Danny wolf-whistles when he notices that Skye's skins as well. Kemp whoops like the true pervert he is and Plovert stares in utter appreciate for the girls in sports bras.

"Perverts," Claire coughs from behind Dylan. The 'Pretty Committee' (for some reason, Dylan kept insisting everyone refer to them as The Pretty Committee—which I think sounds dumb but whatever.)

"We like what we say," Kemp defensively replies, eyes not leaving the field below.

"Puh-lease, those girls only play soccer because they've got nothing better to do with themselves," Dylan scoffs.

"Kristen plays," Josh reminds her pointedly, an edge of annoyance in his tone.

"Yeah but she's on a scholarship here," Dylan nastily replies.

Josh lets it drop. He pulls his Yankees hat lower, the brim of the cap shielding his brown irises.

"I think girls playing soccer is hot," Danny puts in, still ogling the blonde dancer.

"Holy shit," I whisper loudly. "Did you see that _shot_?"

The guys nod in excitement while the girls stomp their feet in jealously; because that's exactly what they are—_jealous_.

I try not to gawk at the brunette on the field. She's fast and skilled, dodging the other girls who try to confront her; she's fast on her feet, pulling out a few moves. She sprints to the end of the field near the opponent's goal and fakes a pass to some other girl and _BAM_ the ball flies past the goalie's hands.

"Dude, I doubt you could've saved that," Cam admits, side-glancing at Kristen Gregory.

Kristen and Massie fighting for the ball and I swear Kemp mutters_ boner_.

"Go Kris!" Claire cheers, her blonde hair swaying in the breeze. Plovert has always been infatuated with this blonde girl; god knows why.

I simply intently gaze at Massie. But apparently so does Josh.

"She's good," Josh says beside me with a smug look on his face. I turn to glare.

"Of course she's good," I snap.

"I wonder how good she is in bed," he muses with a dirty look placating his features. I realize my hands are clenched.

But before I can reply or yell or punch him, Skye and Massie are making their way up the bleachers towards us. Danny stands up automatically and blushes slightly when he realizes his actions.

See, girls make boys do stupid unnecessary stuff.

"We made the team!" Skye exclaims with a huge grin.

"Who's captain?" I ask curiously.

"Kristen and Massie," Skye excitedly cheers. Dylan's jaw drops and so does mine.

"But you're new here," Dylan sputters.

"She's got a point," I mutter. "How did you possibly get captain's role?"

"I don't know," she mumbles looking down at her grass stained shorts and dirt covered legs. Brown tresses fall onto her face and I resist this creepy urge to push her hair out of her face. "Coach just said _Massie Block—captain."_

"Congrats," Danny says, hugging Skye to his waist.

"PDA," Cam coughs.

We laugh.

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mb;

"So, I was thinking…" Josh says to me with those _endlessly _brown eyes locked to mine.

"About…" I trail trying not to hide my excitement.

"Want to get a slice of pizza?" It was his turn to grin.

I nod, temporarily forgetting the fact I should 'play it cool.'

"Yes, I'd love to," I blurt, faintly remembering the facts and arguments burning in my mind.

"Great! Tomorrow night at seven? I can pick you up at your house," he rambles.

"Sure," I agree. "I'll add my number to your phone."

He hands me his Blackberry and I tap the buttons to add my name, number, information and address.

"There."

He hugs me goodbye and we leave the soccer field.

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-:-

* * *

"He asked me out," I exclaim, hugging Skye giddily. She laughs loudly in the car. She offered to drive me home from soccer tryouts.

"When's the big date?"

"Tomorrow," I say.

"I'll have to get you ready." She begins rambling what we can do to my hair and my face and etc.

She takes a left on my street. "I'm so nervous," I confess.

"Relax, Mass." She tries to comfort me with a smirk across her beautiful face. "You have your whole life ahead of you. Death doesn't apply to us young people," she jokes.

I stare out the window, watching the green trees swirl past us, the very green grass sway to the invisible breeze, the dotted blue sky with specks of white puffy clouds.

What was I supposed to say to that?

"For you," I agree.

"And you too," she firmly responds, glancing at me seriously. The music in the background fades a little.

"Right," I mutter under my breath.

* * *

-:-

Thanks for the reviews

Please review!

*R&R*

-another moment gone-


	6. the shipped gold standard

**fi**re & _i__**c**_e

* * *

-:-

mb;

To say I was nervous would be a huge understatement. Skye was twirling a hot curling iron in my hair, cussing whenever it burnt her.

"Ow," I interject, jumping from my seat in her bathroom.

"Sorry," she mumbles under her breath, tugging my tresses slightly as she unwound the hot iron.

"No peeking," she reminds me, wrapping a new lock of hair. "But Mass, you have _amazing _hair—I'm so jealous,"

I laugh out loud, the butterflies in my stomach rattling. "Don't be, you should see it when I'm having a bad hair day,"

There's a moment of silence as she lets the iron heat my hair up. "I'm nervous," I finally say, slicing the silence.

Skye's thoughtfully quiet. "Why are you nervous?"

"Because," I begin, trying to find the words without telling Skye too much, "because, because I don't really date."

She stifles a chuckle, "Mass, you've got nothing to worry about. Josh is an awesome guy,"

"What about Derrick?" I blurt.

"He's okay," she thinks, "why?"

"Just wondering," I quickly slur, looking at my watch.

"He'll be here soon," I mumble.

"Yep, now let's get you changed."

* * *

-:-

* * *

"Hey, you look great," he exclaims, opening his car door for me.

"Thanks," a blush creeping onto my face.

He walks around to the driver's seat and hops in. We buckle up and before I know it, my inner child is popping out.

"Where are we going?" I ask, bouncing in my seat.

"It's a secret," he turns and winks at me, letting out a breathy chuckle.

"Tell me," I beg after about twenty seconds later.

"Nope,"

"Please?" I impatiently shift in my seat, looking out the car door's windows. It's cloudy. The clouds look like they're about to burst with spritzing water and the ominous roll of them reminds me of a bad episode.

"Mass," he tries to glance at me side-ways with a straight serious face but he fails miserably when we begin to laugh. "You'll like this place," he promises, turning back to the road.

I sigh dramatically as a grin stretches along my face.

"You're such a child," he adds, a smile assuring me he's only kidding.

"But you like me anyway," I boast, playing with this.

"Yep," he shortly answers, taking a left into a restaurant.

_Slice of Heaven, _the sign read on its front.

"Pizza?" I ask, cocking my head slightly and tugging my curls.

"Yeah," he notes my look, "is that okay?"

I nod, shooting him a winning smile.

* * *

-:-

* * *

"No way," I burst, fits of giggles taking over my body. He's laughing pretty hard too.

"Yes way," he nods, taking a sip of his Sprite. "It was _awful_."

I just continue to smile fondly at this boy. Not to have a personal soliloquy, but this boy was not like any other boy I've met. He's patient, funny, easy-going, good-looking, brilliant, and all around a gentleman.

"What did she say?" I ask, leaning in close to him.

"She told me I really need to find a hobby," he admits, his blush was a scarlet red.

"Apparently you do," I agree playfully.

He sticks his tongue out childishly at me.

"Am I interrupting something immature?" Alicia Rivera interjects, towering over us with her manicured hands on her slender skirt-covered hips.

Dylan was whispering to Claire while scrutinizing my outfit. Claire nodded in agreement, tucking a blonde string of hair behind her ear, and Dylan cackled.

"Excuse me?" I ask, cocking my head slightly to the left. Alicia scoffed, her doe-eyes rolling.

"Are you dumb?" She growls.

"No she isn't, Alicia," Josh interrupts, his Yankee's hat brim covering his eyes. I imagined from his tone of voice that he was furious. "Go away."

"But Josh," she whimpers, a whole new look crossing her beautiful features.

"Go." He firmly replies, dismissing her like the bitch she truly was.

Alicia let out an unlady-like snarl and stomped off, Dylan and Claire by her side, comforting and dissing me.

"He doesn't deserve you anyway," Claire was saying as they stomped off.

"I hate girls," I grumble.

"Me too," he glowers, his lower lip pouting.

We burst into laughter.

It was nice being with someone like him, even though I still felt like I couldn't share with him my checkered past.

* * *

-:-

* * *

dh;

"So was the date successful?" Kemp asks.

We were sitting at table #16, third lunch period, and gathered around Josh; he looked rather ecstatic, to my displeasure.

"Yep," Josh answers with a mouthful of chips, "it was more than successful."

"Did you get any action?" Plovert questions, his shiny glasses reflecting under the cafeteria's lights.

"Nah," Josh answers easily. "But we are going on another date Sunday."

The guys whooped and high-fived Josh while I tried not to explode with the color of green painted on my envious face.

"Speak of the devil," I mutter under my breath, glancing half-heartedly at the blonde dancer and Massie. Massie looked pretty damn good, I hate to admit.

"Hey guys," Skye boasts taking a seat on Danny's lap. Massie awkwardly shuffles next to her, helplessly glancing where to sit. She chooses a seat next to me to my utter surprise. (Josh blushes for the seemingly hundredth time today.)

"Hi Massie," Josh says, sitting up a little straighter while adjusting his signature Yankee's hat.

"Hi," she shortly replies, tired eyes casting downwards. The discomfort she betrays is clear to all of us.

Skye leaned over to whisper in Massie's ear and abruptly her eyes gaze straight into mine, sending weird creepy fluttering movements in my stomach. I'm a dude, not some obsessive adolescent girl—what the hell am I feeling?

The small chatter was resounding around the table, Danny pecking Skye's lips, Massie and me making awkward hand and eye contact, Kemp drooling over a leggy auburn haired girl strutting by, Plovert stuffing his face with large amounts of food, and Cam gazing longingly at Claire (from across the room.)

"Be right back," Massie mutters, standing up and striding out of the cafeteria. I look around the table for responses but nobody else noticed; not even Lover-Boy Josh noticed, he was too busy listening to Cam's latest soccer tale.

"Me too," I add for good measure, scampering to my feet. I speed-walk out of the cafeteria while glancing left and right looking for her retreating figure.

I go right, because I've always liked the direction more than left. (Don't ask why.)

I'm scanning the empty classrooms and I find her leaning against some lockers, breathing kind of hard.

"Hey," I say as quietly as I can, approaching her small frame. "You okay?"

She glances up with those strikingly weird amber shaded eyes, meeting my gaze, reading my expression and practically seeing through me.

"Are you following me?" She asks incredulously, standing up a little straighter.

"No?" I sheepishly reply, realizing how god damn nervous my voice sounds.

She smiles a little at this and slides down the lockers a little more.

"It's just," she begins, trying to search for the right words. "I don't want a boyfriend," she mumbles.

I slide down next to her, keeping distance between us. "Well you two aren't dating, right?"

She nods her head, a curtain of glossy brown curls falling between us. I have the pedophile urge to tuck her hair behind her ear. I don't.

"Well maybe you should tell him?" I suggest, secretly pleased by her desire.

"Maybe I will," she agrees, looking at me for the first time it seems. We lock eyes for a moment and I can't seem to find any words.

"Is that the only thing bothering you?" I ask skeptically.

She rubs her temples for a moment. I can't help but notice how stressed and strained she looks.

"Headaches,"

"Oh," I mutter. "Okay."

"Yeah," she breathes, eyes shut.

"Well, er, if you need someone to talk to," I awkwardly begin, "I'm always here."

She smiles genuinely at me this time, a small giggle escaping her red lips.

"What?" I ask self-consciously, wondering if I had ketchup around my lips or some sleepy in my eye.

"You're just keeping good on your promise," she simply replies.

"Oh," it was my turn to blush like a moron. "Thanks, I think."

We grin at each other slightly awkwardly.

"So, uh," she breaks her gaze, "I'm going to go back inside."

"Okay," I tried to say, not even sure if anything escaped past my breathy sigh. She was so hard to act normal around.

"See ya," she called over her shoulder, striding away.

_Bye, Mass._

-:-

* * *

I'm not getting many reviews for this story and it's discouraging.

Please review if you're going to 'fav' or 'alert' this. That'd be very much appreciated. And check out of my other writing!

*Review*

-another moment gone-


	7. She's My Winona

**fi**re & _i__**c**_e

* * *

-:-

dh;

"It's a Friday night and we're playing Xbox and _not _partying," Kemp stated the obvious, stretching for the bowl of Cheetos. "Something is seriously wrong with this picture."

I chuckle dryly.

"Seriously," Cam agreed, running a hand through his jet-black hair. "We need some girls here,"

Josh is unusually quiet, not playing Xbox and not even texting. He is just sitting on the beanbag, rubbing his eyes.

"Hotz, what are you doing?" Plovert notices my curious and bewildered gaze.

Josh stands up slowly, "You're right. I _need_ some girl action,"

Without another word, he exits my house and the sound of his car fuming is heard.

"Uh,"

* * *

-:-

mb;

I walk into a dark empty house, the kitchen lights are dim from a distance from what I can see and the phone is ringing.

"Hullo?" I answer without missing a beat, the silence amplifying my pounding heart. Today had been a good, but boring, day.

"Wrong number," I say after an awkward silence. I hang up.

Secretly I had to admit, the aching reminder of Daddy slipped my mind more and more. Kendra was sure coping easily.

Rolling my eyes, I flicked on the lights and swiftly whipped out some food.

_Ding dong_.

Who in the world would be at my house? At 11:30pm? It couldn't be Skye considering I just left her house…

I turn the knob, opening the door slowly and peeking through the crack cautiously.

_Josh?_

"Josh," I stumble out the door, slamming the door behind me. I find myself awkwardly leaning against the door, inches from Josh with raised eyebrows.

"Hi Mass," he awkwardly gets closer (if possible), his hands in his pockets. He's staring intently at me and I have the strong urge to just _run_. He's way too close.

"What are you—"

His lips are against mine, his big hands in my hair, tugging, his tongue slammed down my throat.

I shove him off of me, "_Josh_,"

He looks sheepish, his hands jammed back in his pockets, a blush staining his cheeks. The rain begins to pour.

"Sorry," he mumbles, not looking the least bit apologetic, "I just couldn't resist."

I don't meet his intense gaze; my hand is behind my back perched on the cold doorknob. Now my heart is _really_ racing.

"I don't want a boyfriend," I squeak timidly, looking at my socks.

"I'm not interested in a girlfriend," he says easily, picking an invisible piece of lint off his Ralph Lauren sweater.

"Then why'd you kiss me?" I ask, voice cracking slightly to my utter horror.

"I said I don't want a girlfriend," he repeats with glassy eyes. "But I _do _like you."

It was horrible, my cheeks heated to my dismay and against my willpower. A rush of new found confidence ignited.

_I _don't_ have a full life ahead of me despite Skye's statements, so what the hell?_

I take a step forward, my eyes blazing. His expression matches the mischief on mine. I step again, closing the barely-there-distance and slam my lips to his.

* * *

-:-

* * *

"Skye I'm telling you, that was the weirdest experience ever," I tell her over the phone, sipping the pills down my throat. "It was _crazy_."

"I bet it wasn't that weird," she simpers, the sound of chewing on the other line.

"It was," I disagree immediately, clicking the channel changer.

"Was it romantic? Sexy? Awkward?"

My cheeks are red before I can even feel the heat, "No!"

She laughs heartily, "Was it in the rain?"

I shake my head mindlessly and realize two seconds later she can't see my movements, "No, it wasn't,"

"That would've been _so _sweet," she rants.

Skye's rants always gave me time to think and analyze. That _was _really weird and it _was _really…fun.

"—so I was like, _sure go ahead_ and he's like—"

"Skye?" I interject, a moment of realization hammering my head.

"Yeah?"

My head is pounding harder than my chest was. "Can you pick me up?"

I glance dizzily at my phone, _1 new message._

I click 'open.'

**WANNA CUM 2 D'S? –J**

"We're going to Derrick's," I tell her, my headache expanding.

She squeals from the other line and I can already hear the engine of her little blue Volkswagen.

"Be there soon." She hangs up.

My head hurts so much and I don't even know why. My stomach is rolling uneasily and I had the strong need to throw up. Running to the bathroom while clutching my stomach, I threw up the bits of my salad lunch.

I groan dizzily. Brushing my teeth thoroughly, I pray that the dizziness will fade.

* * *

-:-

* * *

Derrick's house was nothing like I imagined it would be (not that I actually took the time to think about what his house looked like) and it was even nicer than I imagined possible.

Like every Upper Eastside house, it was decorated and painted with shells of white scaling all along the tips of the roof, the house strangely reminded me of a tree-house that was made of glass. The house was practically see-through glass, with windows and walls made of one material (glass), a huge swimming pool swishing in the backyard with droplets of rain landing on it, and five levels (and an elevator I must add,) The Harrington's simply did _not_ do 'simplicity.'

"Nice house," Skye announces while stepping under the porch's roof while confidently pressing the sea-shell doorbell.

Josh answers the door to my surprise and gestures us in, quickly closing the door.

"Derrick's parents are out at some benefit," Josh explains, leading us to the elevator (made out of glass with more lining sea-shells.)

"He has a beautiful house," I blurt, staring around the transparent elevator walls. We go _down, down, down, _slipping past two floors, one of them being some office room, workout room, and the other being some bar and home-movie-theater.

"He's loaded," Josh agrees.

We stand in the elevator and I glance down.

_Holy shit, the floors are see-through_.

"This floor is stable, right?" I whisper, feeling nauseous all over again. I pray that I won't throw up.

Josh nods easily, "Oh yeah, you're fine Mass,"

A shiver runs through me.

We stop at the last palpable floor, stepping into a room that reminds me of a playroom.

"Hey guys," Josh boasts, stepping out of the elevator and leading us right into the back room.

"Who's with you?" A muffled voice asks.

"Massie and Skye," Josh answers, stepping into the room. It was a big spacious room with a huge flat-screen TV set on some wooden ivory platform. There was a long couch expanded and there were boys lazily lying around the couch with various snack foods stuffed in their mouths.

The only one I was staring at (to my dismay) was Derrick. He was slouching against the couch on his stomach, intensely flicking some hands against a game-controller.

"Nice house," Skye easily makes her way to flop her small frame on Danny who was sitting in the middle of the couch leaning towards the TV.

Kemp was stuffing his face with Cheetos and Cam was on Derrick's MacBook checking his Facebook and typing someone. Curiously and subtly, I sauntered casually to him, glancing over his shoulder.

_Claire Lyons?_

Cliché enough, I felt a pair of eyes on me. It was Derrick, of course.

"Dude! I needed back up!" Kemp growls, sending Derrick's eyes flitting back to the army-scene-screen.

"Sorry," Derrick mutters, his eyes quickly flying back to me for a moment. But before I can raise any eyebrows in question, his attention is back to Call of Duty: Black Ops.

"So Mass," Josh sidles next to me, a grin on his face.

He wraps an arm around me.

Kemp shouts at Derrick for _letting him down again_.

"Where's your attention, dude?" Kemp scolds, his afro bouncing slightly. He slams the controller on the rug and shoots up to his feet to 'cool off.'

_Because he's watching me_, I think thoughtlessly, hating the truth.

* * *

-:-

Thank you so much for the amount of reviews I've been getting. It's crazy guys!

34 Reviews for 6 chapters? Wow guys!(:

Please review some more!

-another moment gone-

-:-


	8. watch you work the room

**fi**re & _i__**c**_e

* * *

-:-

mb;

"Is something wrong, Massie?" Josh asked me with concern in his brown eyes, he reached over to stroke my cheek but I pulled away faster than he could touch me.

"Not really," I mumbled, my eyes shut tightly, hands at my temples massaging.

We were all sitting around Derrick's kitchen island, his maid, Mini, dashing around the stove making us dinner.

"So what movie are we watching tonight?" Derrick asked, getting up to help Mini with the many sandwiches.

"Not a chick flick," Cam muttered under his breath, rolling his two different shaded eyes slightly. Kemp high-fived him in what I would assume was 'manly-agreement.'

To my left, Josh nudged me with his friendly half-smile content on his attractive face, beneath to my right Skye kicked my foot in a not-so-gentle manner.

"Josh's flirting with you," she mumbled quietly, making sure Danny wasn't listening and Josh couldn't hear, "Flirt back."

I shrugged.

"Watch me," she leaned even closer to Danny than she already was and began to twirl a string of her golden locks around her pointer-finger, a coy grin bursting on her beautiful face. Even her freaking _eyes_ were sparkling.

"I'm _so_ glad I have you," she sincerely said. His smile grew bigger (if possible) and he enthusiastically kissed her, choosing to ignore the rest of us (who were incredibly uncomfortable.)

"Sandwiches guys," Derrick said awkwardly, assisting Mini with distributing the many varied sandwiches. Skye and Danny pulled away with rosy cheeks, swollen lips, and winning smiles plastered to their faces.

My head was throbbing and I felt like I was going to throw up again.

"Block, are you okay?" Derrick noticed, his puppy-like eyes washing with similar concern to Josh's earlier.

This caused Josh to protectively stare at me, his eyes parent-like and ready to chide me for not being honest.

I took one look at my tomato and cheese Panini in front of me and I was dashing madly for the closest bathroom.

"To the left," Derrick shouted behind me.

I was in the bathroom, door barely shut and blowing chunks. I glanced up for a brief moment to see Derrick peeking through the crack, traces of concern in his eyes even more evident, kind of like worry-wrinkles.

But even that slight head movement was too much and abruptly, my head was back down inches from the sink, my mouth agape with lots of regurgitating going on.

I could barely think straight but what I did manage to wonder was: One, where was Josh and why wasn't he the one watching me with utter concern? And two, why in the world would Derrick Harrington hold my hair as I puke my guts out?

I feel my cheeks to ignite when I'm done and notice Derrick's grasping my hair tightly, his knuckles white and his eyes glued to the once-stark white glassed sink but now blood soiled sink.

Fuck.

"I'm so sorry, Derrick," I panicked. I bet my eyes were bulging out of my head and I can bet you my teeth were pretty bloody too. The taste of pennies was over-whelming my taste buds.

We stood in the semi-small bathroom painted white like an iPod, seashell paintings hung up and small real seashells tracing the wall all around.

"Are you alright Massie?" Josh asked from the kitchen, concern and worry thick in his voice.

"Y-yeah," I stammered, forcing my gaze on Derrick's helpless one. "Give us one second, Derrick and I need to clean up my, er, mess."

We move slowly, our frozen poses not forgotten but thawed.

"Massie," he shut the door, his voice in a low whisper. I didn't look at him while I turned the golden faucet to rinse the sink of its…remnants.

It took him a thirty-Mississippi's to propose his next question. (I counted while pointedly ignoring the beat and racing of our hearts.)

"Is there something you're not telling me?"

It took me a moment but the lie came easily, "Nope."

I washed the sink with the hand soap, my eyes purposely ignoring Derrick's scrutiny.

"Massie," his voice was full of warning and legitimacy. "Tell me."

He wasn't buying my lies.

"Derrick," I turned to him for the first time, locking eyes with him. "We don't have time for me to explain." I headed for the door.

He took a smooth side-step to his left and blocked me from the door.

"Move," I said firmly, ignoring his blazing eyes.

"Not until you tell me," he said.

"You don't want to know," I managed, trying to still stay cryptic. (Not that my secret was that cool, anyway.) But it was the honest-to-gawd truth.

"Yes I do." His sincere eyes made me almost believe I could tell him.

"No."

"Block," he began, those eyes irking me. The browns reminded me of melted Hershey's chocolate, the kind you'd get for Valentine's day from a friend, or a family member, or if you're lucky, a sweet person.

"Harrington," I countered, a small smile arising. I was conscious of my breath so I pulled out my pack of mints and stuffed five in my mouth. I was always prepared.

"Tell me now," he demanded, watching my mouth.

"If you really want to know," I said aggressively, irritation ringing in my ears, "I have a brain tumor in my head." My voice was low and barely a whisper now.

His mouth parted with expected horror, realization dawning on him a little too late.

"It's not a big deal," I whispered. Before I could stop my hand, it reached up and brushed a lock of his hair to the side of his head, out of his face.

"Will you be okay?" He asked, his voice cracking an octave higher.

I looked down, not able to manage the truth even in the quietest of whispers.

"Block," he repeated.

"Maybe," I lied, not even bearing the thought of him hearing the truth. He'd never understand and he'd be _angry_ at me.

He nodded, his bottom lip swelling from the pressure he was biting down on.

"You can't tell anyone," I begged, my voice still low.

He backed against the door, his hands up in surrender, "I won't."

"Pinky-swear?" I asked, a small smile blooming on my face. His smile didn't reach his eyes as he shook pinkies with me.

"Let's go back and act normal," I decided while swiftly pushing him to the side and unlocking the door.

"You okay?" Josh asked, rushing to his feet. They were gathered around the living room.

"Yep, just had something bad the other night," I lied breezily.

"You sure?" Skye questioned suspiciously, her hand laced with Danny's.

I half noticed Derrick sliding out of the bathroom, his eyes kind of hazy and not-focused.

"I'm sure." I replied confidently.

_So much for this distance-thing._

-:-

* * *

Review? Big secret out to only Derrick(;  
Thanks for the many-reviews! Please keep it up! It's so inspirational!  
-another moment gone-


	9. i'm the mascot for what you've become

**fi**re & _i__**c**_e

* * *

-:-

mb;

"Hi, is Derrick there?" I couldn't help myself; I called Derrick's cell-phone three nights ago, left a voicemail, called again two nights ago, left a voicemail, and called his phone last night, left a stupid voicemail and he still hasn't gotten back to me. Plan B? Call his home phone.

The woman on the phone, presumably Mini, coughed away from the phone, "No, Mister Derrick is not home. Is this Massie Block?"

My breath hitched, "Yeah,"

"Please don't call again."

I faltered. "Excuse me?"

The line was dead.

* * *

-:-

I took every chance I could to talk to Derrick but he always dodged me swiftly and quickly, not making eye contact and barely saying more than two words to me. He would mumble that he's late or he'd lift his phone out and talk into the tiny microphone, walking away without another response.

At least I knew his stupid phone worked.

I chased him to his car, rumbling on and on about how he was ignoring me and how it was pissing me off.

"Derrick, stop running away from me," I growled that Tuesday morning. "I don't even know why you're running," He pulled out his keys and unlocked his car, opened the door and was just about to get in when I grabbed his shoulder.

"Derrick."

He didn't turn around though.

"Go away, Massie." And with that, he hopped in his car, not parting me a side-glance, just hitting four-wheel drive and zooming off.

Death, why don't you come a little faster? Living with terminal cancer was difficult. There were so many unexpected things you needed to do; distance yourself, accept the fact you were going to die within the next few months, shake off the people who you become close with, ditch the old friends who once knew you, keep your secret to yourself, mind your own business, and basically just realize you may or may not live to witness your next birthday.

It was definitely difficult. When I was younger, fourteen, my old friends used to joke about how when they got older they would be _this _be _that_, or how they were going to have _blank _amounts of kids or even _so and so _is who I'm going to marry; I had such a hard time with hearing those things. I would lie and add my own input, trying to keep things light, and as I said those words and sentences, I really truly wished it would be true. But that's the thing about hope, I guess, it doesn't really matter what you want or what you keep in or out of your mind; terminal is terminal: dead is dead.

I'm death itself walking around in converses.

* * *

-:-

I didn't mean to tell Derrick the truth, that's for sure. He begged and pleaded until I just blurted it out, kind of like word vomit. If anything with telling him, it had been relieving. At least he'd know that I wasn't perfect and cold-hearted or moody and impatient; I was simply doomed to an uncontrollable twist of bitch fate.

At first it was comforting to know I wasn't some bubble waiting to be popped by a sharp pointy needle because I had finally popped; but now he's ignoring me and he _hates _me. I don't understand.

He was so understanding, plus patient last week, why is he full of such hatred now?

"Dinner money is on the fridge," Kendra said breezily, walking towards the door in a black dress that looked a little too short and a little too _come-hither_ styled.

"What are you wearing?" I demanded pointedly, not bothering to hide the distaste from my voice.

"A dress," she retorted. I almost laughed out loud although the situation was far from humorous; our roles were completely reversed. If Dad was here…

"A slut dress," I grumbled.

Her eyes widened for a moment, a rush of something I couldn't place, but the look was gone from her face before I could really scrutinize her.

"Thanks Massie," she stormed out the door, keys in hand, phone in the other, her eyes down on her phone.

I was left once again in the big empty mansion. I called Josh.

"Hey Mass," he answered after a ring.

I walked over to the kitchen to see how much Kendra left me; _three-hundred dollars_, huh.

"Hey Josh, want to come over and watch some movies?"

As soon as I admitted I wanted to go home, Josh jumped to his feet and offered to drive me home from Derrick's last week. I obliged and glanced at Derrick by accidently; he wore a look of horror and surprise still.

"Sure," Josh said a little too eagerly. "Be there in five."

He hung up without another word.

I logged onto facebook to see if Derrick was on. He was. I clicked on his name and opened the chat.

**Me: **Why are you ignoring me?

I waited for a response but I never got one and I'm not sure if it was the hormones but I was _furious_. Why would he ignore me? I told him a secret that should've _bounded us together_ not tear us apart.

The doorbell rang shortly.

* * *

-:-

Josh and I were snuggled in the barely-used den, wrapped and tangled in blankets. When I kissed him, I thought of Derrick's eyes and the look of washed up fear in them when I told him the truth. When I ran a hand through Josh's hair, I imagined the single piece of blond lock of hair that I brushed aside from his eyes.

Damn you to hell, Harrington.

The doorbell rang once again and I literally jumped out of Josh's tangled arms; efficiently ending our kissing.

Bewildered and startled, I groggily got up to walk to the door. I'll waste no time with this.

Derrick Harrington was standing outside on my porch, his hands in his Diesel jean pockets, wearing the strangest look on his face.

-:-

* * *

Review! Review! Review!  
When I originally wrote 'review' I had a question mark at the end of it, and Microsoft Word had a green squiggly line under it; must be a sign from God saying that 'review' needs to have exclamation points after it. (:

So… yeah, review!

PS: First reviewer to review (not anonymously/needs to have an account), who lists 10 random prompts, i will write a one-shot for.(:

-another moment gone-


	10. my head's in heaven my soles are in hell

**fi**re & _i__**c**_e

* * *

-:-

mb;

"Massie," he stammered, awkwardly glancing around my porch. He looked down for a moment then his gaze landed on me again. "I have so much to explain—"

"Sup Harrington," Josh stated—_cockily?—_behind me. I turned to glare at Josh as subtly as possible, hinting clearly with my eyes that this was none of Josh's business. He didn't take the hint.

Derrick faltered.

"Josh, could you please give us a second?" Without waiting for his response, I immediately shoved him out of the door's way and stepped outside, making sure to slam the door behind me.

"So," I said, trying to catch his stare. He avoided eye contact and chose instead to look into the night as if it was the most fascinating thing around.

"Never mind," he blurted, turning to leave.

"Wait," I called, trying to keep my calm.

He stopped, his back turned against me. "Meet me at Slice of Heaven tomorrow at 1:00pm." Then without a second glance, he bolted back to his car, somewhere in the darkness.

I sighed and headed back in.

"Josh," I called. He was in the living room, sitting with a triumphant face expression.

"What?" He asked, standing up.

"You should go home."

He didn't argue, simply leaned in to peck my cheek and left without another word; the sound of the TV was blaring in the house.

I thought of Dad.

* * *

-:-

* * *

dh;

"It was terrible," I groaned, my hands covering my face. "_Josh _was there."

My sister rolled her eyes. Sammi had never been one for sympathy.

"What's so special about this Massie girl? Isn't she just a friend?"

Her question caused me to hesitate; Massie technically was just a friend. But she was also my ticket to lots of money, a win over Josh, and some dignity.

"Yeah," I said.

"Then maybe you should stop ignoring her and treat her like a friend," she snapped, reaching for the popcorn.

"But Sammi," I whined. "You don't understand. She told me something I can't even begin to comprehend."

"What was it?"

I shake my head, wanting scream and cuss and curse the world for being so ridiculously cruel. Sammi stepped over my backpack and walked to my bed side.

"What is it?" She asked again, a little more seriously.

"She has cancer," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

I didn't want to look at Sammi's response; it would probably reflect how similar I felt.

"Well you definitely can't keep avoiding her," Sammi retorted, a new voice echoing in her tone.

I looked up. "What do I do? I told her I'd meet her at Slice of Heaven's at 1:00pm,"

Sammi nodded, "That's a start."

There was so much I couldn't explain or even begin to _want_ to explain. There were too many complications that nobody would understand. It's not that I like Massie, as in like-like, but I do think she's really cool (probably the coolest girl I've ever met…) and I want to be friends with her. But what happens if something like before happens again? What if she starts floating along to the next stage in her cancer? What happens if I like her, and she _dies_?

I shake the ugly thoughts away quickly.

"Tell her the truth," Sammi finally said after the long silent pause. "The truth is the only way,"

* * *

-:-

* * *

My palms were sweating as I sat in a booth near the entrance of Slice of Heaven. I told the waitress who smiled a little _too_ much that my second party member would be arriving shortly. Her smile became tight after that.

12:57pm.

I couldn't help but glance at my phone several times, whipping it out of my pocket the first four times and finally just placing it on the table after the eight time.

1:02pm.

I kept trying to rehearse what I could possibly say to her, explaining and giving her a good reason why I was literally going out of my way to simply ignore her.

1:10pm.

She's not coming, is she?

1:15pm.

She's fifteen minutes late and I got up to leave, tired of waiting and honestly feeling like I was going insane. As I was leaving, she walked right into me, her wide amber eyes widening even more.

"Sorry," I muttered, retreating awkwardly back to my booth. She followed wordlessly, her mouth kind of agape.

We sat, not meeting any of each other's eyes.

"So," she mumbled.

"So," I repeated.

"Sorry I'm late," she added.

"It's okay," I replied shortly, glancing helplessly for the waitress.

_What do I say?_

-:-

* * *

*Review?*

The one-shot won't be completed until I get some minor details. Considering _Allie_ reviewed first with the listed props, but she does not have an account that I can PM her with, I have to move to the next reviewer. That means Angela (Lost in the Starlight) wins because the others do not have a FF account. Sorry. Re-read the directions if you don't believe me :P

So, Angela, what pairings? That's the last questions I swear.

Ps: You should totally check out a newer project called "_fix me in fortyfive"_

* * *

Please review. Sorry for the short chapter, maybe tonight I'll update again; I was sick yesterday so sorry about the no-update the past two days.

Thanks for all the reviews!

(:

-another moment gone-


	11. happiness hit her like a bullet

**fi**re & _i__**c**_e

* * *

-:-

mb;

I'm not going to lie—I almost didn't show up. I spent a good fifteen minutes in the parking lot trying to convince myself of all the reasons why I should walk into that restaurant and listen to Derrick Harrington's _excuses _for ignoring me completely. But here's the thing, it's _Derrick Harrington_ I'm speaking about. He's not just some boy… he's my friend and I don't want to leave this world with grudges.

So that leads to present day, where I'm awkwardly sitting across the table, in a booth, from Derrick. We both seem to have the same idea as to avoiding awkward-eye-contact.

"I'm sorry," he finally blurted, at last looking up and trying to meet eyes. I gaze up, by accidently looking into his anxious eyes. Our gazes match.

He leans a little closer his, his face becoming very, very serious. "I don't really know how to explain this," he said, struggling for some words. "But I really care about you and I can't stomach the idea of you _dying_. You're too _young_ to die."

He paused again, his next words barely coming out in a whisper, "And I really, _really_ don't want you to die."

My face must've melted at this point because he begins to shift uncomfortably. I contemplate my next words, ignoring the shuffling strangers surrounding us.

"I tried not to grow close to anyone when I first came," I admitted quietly.

"Because you didn't want to hurt anyone," he nodded, clearly understanding my point of view.

"—but the thing is," I interrupted. "People like you, Skye, Josh—you all make it so difficult to not grow close."

He seemed to wince at the names listed; _Josh._

"What are you guys?" He asked after another silent pause.

"What do you mean?" I played dumb.

He rolled those chocolaty eyes and I resisted the urge to ogle. "What are you two?"

I felt my cheeks burn, "Friends."

"With benefits," Derrick coughed.

We grinned at each other now, our smiles reaching our eyes. The rest of our talk became lighter and clearer.

"Jealous," I retorted.

"Admitting," he snidely replied with laughter in his eyes.

"Jealous,"

"Admitting,"

"Jealous!

"Admitting!"

* * *

-:-

dh;

"Josh," I pulled him aside in the hallway, hoping that I wouldn't regret my next words. "I think we need to talk."

Josh smirked at me. "Giving up so easily already, D?"

His words were biting and obviously reeking sarcasm and victory.

"_No_," I blurted, irritation burning in my face. He's infuriating.

"Then what's there to talk about? I have a lunch date with her now," he retorted, his cocky grin never fading. I shoved him over closer to the lockers.

"Play fair."

And as quickly as I came, I side-stepped him and speed-walked to the cafeteria hoping to escape.

-:-

Lunch was infuriating as well. The entire time, Josh and Massie were talking and she'd occasionally (often) would glance in my direction, catch my stare and abruptly turn away without another word. She'd laugh and smile half-heartedly at Josh as he would gesticulate enthusiastically.

It was clear she wasn't into it.

Skye and Danny were whispering to each other and every time I looked in their direction, I felt the sudden need to look away because I felt intrusive. Kemp and Plovert were rating girls that strutted by with mouths full of food and lust burning in their greedy eyes.

Cam was the only one who wasn't really _there_. He physically sat next to me, to my right, but he didn't really seem to actually be there. He was too busy gawking at Claire Lyons.

I had no idea what he saw in her; she was blonde. She's cute, I guess, but not worth _ogling_ over. It was a turn-off that she followed Dylan Marvil like a puppy-dog.

Then there was Dylan Marvil. She didn't take no for an answer.

* * *

-:-

* * *

"Der," she practically _purred_, leaning a little too close for comfort. Dylan Marvil= annoying.

"I'm not interested," I half-mindedly said. We sat in English class, her invading my personal space, Massie a few rows in front of us, and Dylan every-so-often would shoot girl-daggers at the back of Massie's head.

"You don't need to be so mean either," I added irritably.

Dylan scoffed, rolling her cat-like eyes and tossing her red hair behind her shoulder, _valley-girl style_. "Not my fault Mah-ssie Buh-lock is an LBR,"

"An LB—_what_?"

"LBR," Dylan snorted, ignoring the teacher's warning-glare.

I shook my head.

* * *

-:-

* * *

"Dudes," Josh boasted. "There's a dance coming up,"

"Yes!" Kemp cheered, punching his fist into the air. "Now I can _finally_ get some action; I'm tired of watching you and Massie hookup." He pouted as I winced.

Why did I even care? Oh that's right, I have a bet to win…

"Is it formal?" Cam asked hopefully, glancing at the girl's table a few tables over.

"Yep," Danny plopped into the booth. Slice of Heaven was known for its delicious pizza. Kemp stuffed his face with two more pieces.

"What about dates?" I found myself asking, trying to ignore Josh's heavy set eyes.

"I heard there was this new computer system thing," Cam offered.

"What do you mean, Fisher?" Josh demanded, his eyes wavering over towards Massie and Skye's table.

"They have this new system where you fill in your personal interests and stuff and you get matched up through the computer for dates," Cam said, his multi-colored eyes once again glancing towards Dylan's group.

Cam really had the _hots _for this girl, huh?

"Yeah, right," Josh dismissed it easily, waving a hand and using the other to pick up a slice of meatball pizza.

"It's true," Plovert confirmed.

"Shit," Josh mumbled. He looked up and met my challenging stare.

Game on.

* * *

-:-

mb;

"What kind of school _does_ that?" I asked, rubbing my temples once again. Skye bit her cheese pizza and chewed. I sipped my water in the meantime.

"—our school apparently,"

"Is it new?" I said.

"Yeah," she nodded and sipped her coke, glancing towards the boy's table. I followed her blue cornflower eyes. She caught Danny's eye and the boys waved us over.

I dejectedly followed at her heels with no choice.

"Hey Massie, hear about the dance?" Josh asked the minute I got there. I found myself watching Derrick's next moves. He just sat and suddenly his piece of half-eaten pizza became _very_ fascinating.

"Yeah," I shortly said, my magnetic gaze still watchfully observing Derrick's lack of enthusiasm. He finally glanced up and gaped at me with those brown eyes.

We seemed to know exactly what we were both thinking; _Josh is being annoyingly persistent._ He offered a smile and I matched his without effort.

"I was thinking we should go together," Josh smugly said, his eyes looking intently in Derrick's direction. Derrick stood up abruptly and nodded at me briefly and turned for the exit.

"Be right back," I blurted, chasing towards Derrick's frame.

We stood outside for a moment, the parking lot busy and jam-packed. I recognized a few students from my classes making their way into the popular restaurant.

"So," I said with a small smile.

"Are you going to go with him?" Derrick wasted no time.

I shook my head. "I don't date, which includes dates—even for dances; no exceptions."

He nodded again. "Not even I can be an exception?" He locked eyes and his eyes glinted with mischief, half-serious, half-joking.

"Not even you," I playfully agreed.

He pouted and looked at his feet with a wounded expression washing over his handsome face.

Then he glanced up at me again and he smiled deviously. "We'll see,"

Now _that's_ the Derrick I know and…uh, like.

"Game on, Block,"

I folded my arms across my chest, arching an eyebrow. My head was feeling better today and being around Derrick made my forget all about my stupid head.

"Don't hold your breath," I muttered, turning back for the door.

He stood, not turning around. "Wait,"

I froze again, feeling that this situation was oddly familiar. Déjà vu?

"Yeah?"

I turned around to find him looking very uncomfortable. Something glittered in his eyes but it quickly disappeared.

"Never mind," he flashed me a winning smile and stepped closer to me. He was really, really close. I could feel his warm breath on my face; he smelled like mint and Old Spice cologne.

"Move," he breathed, our eyes locked, our lips inches apart. I briefly thought for a moment contemplating the idea of moving my face just another two inches closer. But he didn't give me a chance because he slipped in faster than I could probably blink.

I was shell-shocked for another ten seconds until recognition sunk in. I stuck my tongue at his retreating figure and stood outside the building for a moment trying to calculate the pace of my beating-heart. Why was it beating so rapidly?

"Derrick Harrington—_you suck_." I mumbled to myself.

Glancing at the sky and swiftly thinking of dad (and my bad-luck), I pulled open the glass door to Slice of Heaven and sauntered in.

Two could play at this game.

(it takes _two_ to tango)

-:-

* * *

Review! Review! Review! (:

PS: Check out 'fix me in forty-five'

*Note: I will not be updating it until 'fire & ice' is done.

-another moment gone-


	12. you don't owe me, we might change

**fi**re & _i__**c**_e

* * *

-:-

mb;

When I turned ten, mom (I used to refer to her as mom, but things changed—) paid Inez extra to bake me this _huge_ strawberry shortcake with lots of whip cream and fresh strawberries piled on top of it. Mom had come to visit a little more frequently then and she promised to make it a habit to see me more often. (She broke her promise, but that's not the point.)

See, back then, things were simple and Kendra cared.

Anyway, Inez had baked this monstrous cake and when it was time—my entire fifth grade class surrounded the kitchen with dirty germy hands and licked their lips at _my _cake. Keep in mind: Things were simple.

As I stared at the glowing luminous fluffy white cake in front of me, not only did my mouth water but my ten year old mind had been reeling. I remember closing my eyes tightly and take a deep breath of air, preparing to _whoosh_ onto lit candled cake.

I wished for one thing and one thing only: my parents to get along.

But I was silly and naïve to think that they would ever do that.

(maybe I lied; things _were_ simple a long, long time ago.)

* * *

-:-

* * *

The minute I walked in the door, I found Skye and Kendra sitting on the living room couch, legs crossed with very serious face expressions; if I didn't know any better, I'd say Skye's usually flawless face had a red blotchy residue.

Had she been crying?

"Massie, take a seat," Kendra's collected and dangerously serious voice made me shiver but I did as she told, choosing to sit not on the couch but the reclining chair.

Kendra cleared her throat but locked eyes with me. "I told Skye about your illness," she said without hesitance. "She told me about the night at your friend's house and how worried she was. But now I need to know something Massie," Her similar shaded eyes to mine held an unwavering gaze. "Do you think your cancer is coming back?"

I remember my grandmother (dad's side of the family) once visited my hospital room when I was fifteen. She sat on my bed with her frail paper-thin, wing-like skin causing her bones to bulge out of her aged body.

She had stared at me with scrutinizing eyes and her next words seemed to be the most solemn words I might've ever heard.

"_If you don't think about the cancer, it may go away after the treatment has been completed."_

I followed her advice until now.

"Possibly,"

Kendra faltered as she showed a slight flicker of distress but it quickly melted as abruptly as it appeared. Flicking an invisible piece of lint off her blazer, she stood up and smoothed her skirt—refusing to look at Skye's shaking frame or my intense gaze.

Kendra's composure was intact and she didn't seem to want to ever lose it again. "I'll take you to the doctor's on Wednesday and we can get you checked out. See you later girls," And with that, she was already striding out the room without another question.

I turned to Skye. She was shaking, tears rolling down her ivory skin, little shudders running through her body.

"Why did you tell my mom?" I asked as patiently as possible. My ears were ringing with fury.

"Massie," she said as if I was a child. She reached for my arm but I shook her touch off.

"I'm serious, Skye,"

She looked away with her wounded face expression. I stared coldly at the ground, feeling my body freeze with the tension.

"Leave Skye." I snapped.

She stood up after another two silent minutes and headed for the door. With her hand on the knob, she turned slowly. "You can thank me later for caring Massie."

Her words bit.

* * *

-:-

* * *

dh;

Skye walked up to me in the hallway that early Wednesday morning, her lip trembling and wobbling. She rested a hand on the locker next to mine and rested against it with all her weight.

"Massie's mom told me," She gazed into my eyes and I didn't need her explanation to know exactly what she was talking about.

"Why?" I asked, dropping my books and binders carelessly into my already-messy-locker.

She looked away. "I told her what happened the other night at your house," her voice dropped an octave when Kemp and Cam walked by and waved. I didn't even bother waving back, my eyes set on Skye.

"She's mad." I knew immediately who 'she' was.

"Why?"

I found it hard to gather thoughts, think thoroughly, remember thoughtfully and form sensible and coherent words all at the same time.

"Is it terminal?" I found myself asking before Skye could answer my previous question. She looked down at her converse and kind of sighed. "Is it?" I pressed.

When she looked up again, tears had welled in her cornflower blue eyes and I felt my body kind of ice. My fists were clenched and my knuckles were white when I mindlessly glanced down. Skye kind of skidded against the locker, her back sliding down the locker, her hands covering her face.

I sat down next to her thin frame.

"I don't know," she whispered with wide eyes. "Possibly; Kendra seemed to dodge that question—but can you blame her?" She asked me with panicked eyes. "I would never be able to tell my daughter's friend that my daughter may have or may not see her next birthday."

It didn't occur to me until now that Skye's words were the truth.

"I'm so stupid," she chided. "I told Massie that we had a whole _life_ ahead of us. How could I have been so oblivious?"

I awkwardly placed a hand on her shoulder, half wondering where Danny was. (He'd be a lot better at this than me.)

"You didn't know better," I mumbled.

She abruptly glanced up at me with her tear-stained face. "Did you know before?"

I sheepishly looked down.

She had her answer; her movements were quick as she stood up impatiently. "Our talk isn't over," she called over her shoulder as she scampered to her next class.

"Unfortunately," I heard a voice behind me grumble. I had whiplash when I turned around and saw Massie standing in the vacant hallway with a hand on her slender hip and her bag on her back.

"Block," I said, unable to move a step forward or backward.

She advanced and caught my wavering stare. "Can we forget about this entire episode?" She begged with pools of amber. "I don't know how much longer I have and I'd _really_ like if you didn't treat me any differently than anyone else,"

How could I say no? But how could I even begin to say _yes_?

"Of course," I mechanically nodded. She smiled widely and leaned over and hugged me swiftly.

"Thanks Harrington, it means a lot. You're becoming one of the few people I can _actually_ trust,"

Her words should have not made my day.

-:-

* * *

-:-

It was a short filler kind of chapter.  
Wow I didn't get many reviews for the last chapter? ):

Maybe redeem yourselves? (:  
(I always write long chapters when I get lots of reviews. I don't know…they help motivate.)

Review?

-another moment gone-


	13. you're crashing but you're no wave

**fi**re & _i__**c**_e

* * *

-:-

dh; 

There were times like these when, I, Derrick Harrington found myself staring emptily at my (rarely) untouched food. My nose being inches from the now-cold spaghetti. The red meat sauce glazed over the food was appetizing but I didn't think I could stomach the food.

"Derrick, did your pet fish die or something?" Sammi asked with a toothy smile. Her phone must've buzzed beneath the table in her jean pocket because her glint flickered downwards for a brief subtle three-second.

I shook my head slightly, glaring at the wall.

"Is there something wrong, honey?" My mom asked. She sipped her water. I couldn't help but notice for the _fourth_ time that dad ditched dinner again to 'work.'

"Where's dad?" I changed the subject drastically, not wanting to get into gory details of Massie's…sentence.

"Working," Mom's usual reply resounded against the red walls. The scarping of silverware against glass plates also echoed.

I wanted to scream.

"Again?" Sammi chimed in, shooting me a meaningful glance.

"Again," Mom sighed.

"I'm not hungry, may I be excused?" I said quietly.

Mom nodded and let out another breathy sigh as I cleared my plate and half-full cup towards the sink where Mini was already doing dinner-dishes.

"Thanks Mini; dinner was really good."

She nodded at me and continued to scrub.

* * *

-:-

* * *

Facing upwards with the bed beneath my back, I solemnly wondered why God decided to be an ass and cut the strings of her life, short.

Before I could continue my useless spiel, the knock on the door interrupted my thoughts.

"It's me," Sammi claimed outside the door.

"Come in."

She opened the door and shut it behind her softly, the faint _click_ bouncing off the wall as the door shut. She stood for a moment but decided to take a seat at the foot of my bed with a serious look on her face.

I held my breath.

"What's wrong, D?"

The urge to scream returned and I rolled over to face my face right into the pillow. "Nothing," I replied with a muffled voice.

"Something's clearly wrong," she snorted. I could imagine her infamous blue eyes had rolled at this point.

"Tell me," she chided.

My face was still stuffed against the pillow. She flicked my socked foot and I kicked for a moment. She snickered.

"Sammi," I lifted my head. "It's not funny. None of this is remotely funny anymore." I groaned and from the look on her face, recognition was kicking in.

"It's about this Massie girl," she said.

I nodded and threw myself back against the pillow. I found myself feeling similar to an adolescent hormonal girl. (I'm getting soft…)

"I thought you said your discussion with her cleared things up," Sammi's confusion was laced in her voice and I didn't blame her—I was just as confused.

"It did," I snapped, sitting up again. "But it doesn't mean it's _easy_."

Sammi nodded, her straight blonde tresses falling past her shoulder.

"Well I don't know what to tell you bud," she simpered. "Just that you should stick by her; she'll be needing you a lot soon."

* * *

-:-

* * *

"Dude, I don't know if I can go through with this bet," I admitted sheepishly to Cam Fisher (the sensitive one out of group.)

Cam lifted his foot to tie his cleats and shook his jet-black hair out of his face. His multi-colored eyes darted kind of. Then he cocked his head and gave me his attention.

"What are you talking about, man?"

I adjusted my goalie gloves as we walked slowly out of the locker room towards the fields.

"I don't think I can follow through with this bet," I repeated. Cam's eyebrows knitted in bewilderment.

"Why the hell not? Dude, I know I betted a lot of money and I don't want you to win but a bet's no fun if you're not even tryi—"

"—trying, I know." I flatly snapped. "But some things have changed…"

Cam raised an eyebrow and I felt myself go red.

"Do you like her or something?" He pressed.

I glanced down at the soccer ball in front of me and kicked it forward a little bit. "No," I said as I felt myself go redder.

"Are you sure about that?" Cam asked doubtfully.

I glared at him, dribbling the ball towards the dewy field. Cam followed a foot pace behind me. I sneezed when we stepped into the sunlight.

"I can't tell you," I admitted seriously.

Cam groaned irritably. "Why not?"

I jogged around the field, dribbling with the ball at my feet as Cam ran along with me. The rest of the team were still lacing their cleats and adjusting their equipment.

"It's a secret."

"Dude," Cam grumbled.

I shrugged, heading towards the net. "I can't tell you but I can tell you I'm considering dropping out of this bet,"

"Don't," Cam snapped.

I shrugged, staring at Josh as he sprinted across the field for warm-ups.

* * *

-:-

mb;

Under any other circumstances, I would not be sitting on bleachers _watching_ soccer when I could be playing soccer, but after hearing how exciting their games were, how could I resist?

(For a September afternoon, it was pretty damn warm.)

Skye apologized to me today during lunch, tears welling in her eyes and I couldn't stay mad at her. But I made her promise me that she wouldn't tell a soul and would _warn_ me next time.

"Is Kendra always that…dismissive?" Skye asked as we sat on the warm bleachers. I nodded, vaguely recalling the last time cared.

My stare kept wandering down towards the field of players. Derrick was their star-goalie and Josh was their star-forward. (Of course.)

"Danny looks so cute in his uniform," Skye squealed in her bubbly, girlish voice. She clapped her hands together and ogled him.

Other students were crowding into the bleachers to support the Briarwood's first game of the season. A lot of people filled into the left side of the bleachers. (Our side.)

"Skye," I warned.

She giggled. "Sorry, Mass,"

* * *

-:-

* * *

"What are you doing here?" Dylan asked right as the beginning of second-half began. We were in the lead by four goals.

"Watching," I snorted. Skye glanced up between us. As per usual, Dylan's clique was backing her up; Claire was watching the game, biting her nails and Alicia was standing behind her with a lazy Cheshire grin elating over her painfully beautiful face.

"Why do you bother showing your face up at these events?" Claire grumbled.

Skye rolled her eyes and mouthed _ignore them_.

I arched an eyebrow and patted Skye's leg. "Let's get some candy," I said to her. She nodded in agreement.

"Do you think candy is what you should be eating…?" Alicia commented sharply.

I rolled my eyes; shouldering past Dylan's stupid body and Alicia voluptuous figure, I approached Claire with a simple smirk.

"Being a bitch doesn't fit you, Lyons." I said easily, brushing past her. Skye and I didn't look back.

* * *

-:-

* * *

"That was a good game," Skye gushed, standing next to Danny. The entire team smelled like sour cream and onions and sweat was beaded on their foreheads. Except Derrick's.

"I bet I could score against you," I playfully said. Derrick rolled those chocolate browns and snorted.

"As if, Block."

Was he seriously challenging me?

"Rematch, Saturday," I decided with authority. "Four o'clock. Be there, or be square."

Derrick laughed. "Be there or be square…?"

I smacked his arm and grumbled, "Don't judge."

He backed off with raised hands, "I wouldn't dream of it, my dear,"

I found myself giggling and the worst part is I can't even tell you why. My headache melted away like the snow does when spring approaches.

"Hey Mass," Josh called from behind. I whipped around and saw him standing in all his mighty. Derrick grumbled something inaudible and shuffled off but my attention already turned towards Josh.

"Nice game super-star," I commented lightly.

He grinned and wrapped a muscled arm around me smelling fairly good; kind of reminding me of Ralph Lauren's cologne.

"I had my good luck charm after all," he winked and I returned a smile.

My gaze was wandering towards Derrick Harrington's messy tousled somewhat-sweaty hair. He kicked, seemingly with a lot of power, the ball right into the top right corner of the wide-open net.

"Nice shot," I blurted.

Josh looked confused for a moment but his pretty-boy features scrunched when he saw my eyes had flickered to Derrick's retreating figure.

"He's better off in goal," Josh said rather dismissively; the tone in his voice reminded me of faint envy.

"Right," I mumbled a wave of bewildered sadness running through my mind as Josh wrapped an arm around me and led me towards his car.

"One second Josh, I think I lost my necklace," I lied, running back to the field without waiting for his response.

Derrick was just packing his bag when I reached the vacant field.

"It was a good game," I said. He glanced up in surprise and we made eye-contact. My knees might as well have gone weak and the doctor's medication might as well disregard the thumping and rapid beating of my heart-beat.

Derrick's a friend, so why the hell am I even nervous?

"Thanks," he replied, removing his muddy cleats.

"You had a nice save," I added rather awkwardly, searching for conversation.

"Shouldn't you be with Josh?" He asked kind of moodily.

I faltered slightly. "Yeah,"

"So…?" He trailed impatiently glazing his eyes into mine. His stare burnt right through me and I could've sworn his eyes flickered with irritation.

"I just wanted to say you did a nice job, without everyone surrounding us," I lied. He nodded, zipping up his bag.

"'Kay," I softly said, taking a step forward.

"Okay," he countered.

"Sorry about this."

Before he could even respond to what I had said, I leaned over and pecked his cheek, which caused both of our cheeks to burn a bright scarlet red.

"You're not bad, Harrington."

I ran off before he could even come up with a response.

* * *

_Derrick: 1_

_Massie: 2_

-:-

* * *

Two updates? In one day? Oh yeah!

Review please!

-another moment gone-

-:-


	14. you know always it will be just me

**fi**re & _i__**c**_e

-:-

* * *

dh;

You know that moment when you realize that your life is turning into a complete movie? When you're the main character that's standing frozen with a jaw wide open and drool might as well be dripping from your mouth and you've caught your bad father making out with his secretary?

Welcome to my world 2.0: Derrick Harrington version.

But here's the twist guys, my dad was making out with _Mrs. Block_; total MILF but the crush's mom—_what!—_of my latest interest.

The brass knob I was gripped was turning my knuckles a ghostly white, the blood red room was spinning wildly and my vision was blurry in a-non-crying-manner.

"What the hell?" I sputtered, backing out of the half open door.

And you know that moment when your brain is frozen and your usually lithe movements are in a slow-motion kind of state; you're trapped between sloppy unsaid words and strung out furious profanities? Yeah that moment just occurred.

"Derrick?" My dad's voice rang with utter surprise and panic laced.

"Who's that?" Kendra asked in a hushed whisper.

"No one," my dad said after another silent pause.

Classy, Dad.

* * *

-:-

mb;

I walked onto the dewy lush green grass, the moist ground being squishy. It sunk beneath my feet as I padded along the field with my sports bag perched on my back.

I saw Derrick sprinting towards a still soccer ball, running towards it with full on aggression. He wound up and kicked it _hard_ right into the wide-open net. The ball flew for a few breathless moments.

"Nice shot," I called impulsively.

He didn't turn his back. Instead, he ran to fetch the ball.

"Hi to you too," I mumbled while setting my bag down. I approached him with rosy cheeks. This evening's sun was really hitting on our backs.

"Less talking," he panted while winding up again for another shot. "More playing."

We didn't talk again. We played hard and he hopped in goal and saved the majority of my pointless shots.

"It's so hot," he complained with a cocky smile. He pulled his shirt off and I swear things got hotter outside; slow-mo time.

I think my jaw might've dropped and my eyes definitely widened but I quickly dismissed my own reactions and attempted to counter his actions.

I whipped off my shirt, choosing to sport a yellow Nike sports bra. For once I wasn't having a bloated day.

His chiseled body might've made my cheeks burn a scarlet red, or maybe it was simply the intensity of the burning sun hitting our all-ready sweaty bodies.

"Not bad," he mimicked my words in a girly falsetto voice.

(Completely unnecessarily amusing.)

"Hop off," I grunted, picking up pace to reach the ball. I dribbled for another passing second until he encroached on me at a timeless second later.

His laughter was loud.

I'm not sure which movement caused this, but whatever action he chose to commit to, it happened. Between the moment when he stuck his right leg out as far as possible, and the next breathy moment when he decided to stick his leg out right in front of the ball, we collapsed into a messy sweaty bewildered heap.

"Harrington," I groaned with lips pressed against some part of his body.

When he spoke next, it didn't take a genius to realize what part of body my face was pressed against.

His lips moved against mine when he grumbled a muffled, "Block."

Shit.

-:-

* * *

Short chapter…sorry guys  
I got in trouble earlier and I went on a school trip to Washington D.C.

So fun! (:

Thanks for the so-far-reviews(:

(I'll try and work on updating this story more frequently again. Inspiration is fading with me.)

Review?

-another moment gone-


	15. Oh, a fortune for your disaster

**fi**re & _i__**c**_e

-:-

* * *

mb;

If it wasn't for my blood-ripe-red stained cheeks, maybe Derrick wouldn't have noticed the embarrassment that might as well have been stamped on my forehead.

We pulled away with an abrupt realization and I wanted to hide under some rock like Spongebob Squarepant's Patrick Star. I was literally _that_ embarrassed.

How could I not be?

He looked anywhere but at me with fiery eyes, wild and anxious. "What just happened…?" I trailed, hating bubbly tone my voice took on.

It took him a few moments to compose himself. "I'm not sure," his eyes casted downwards.

We sat crossed legged on the vacant field. I pulled the tips of the green with my fingertips and ripped shards of grass out with humiliation running through my veins.

Derrick abruptly stood up, not bothering to wipe the grass stains all over his white shorts. He looked down at me for a brief second.

"You didn't _enjoy_ that, did you?" He asked.

My embarrassment melted when his infamous smirk ignited on his face. But I think irritation must've burned somewhere.

"_No_," I snapped. I stood up, wiping the stray grass tips from my shorts. I still wasn't wearing a shirt and I never felt so exposed in a sports bra before now.

"Of course you didn't," he mocked. His smile grew, reminding me slyly of a Cheshire grin.

"Of course I didn't," I retorted with flaming cheeks.

His smile never faded though and I was tempted to either a) slap his smile off his face, literally or b) kiss it off.

Both seemed implausible.

We didn't make eye-contact again and the sun had nearly disappeared. Twilight was almost over and soon darkness began encroach on us.

"I have a bruise," I complained quickly. I walked over to the bleachers and slid on my shirt as did Derrick.

"That's too bad," he noted while attempting to stick his head through the neckline of his hoody.

I simply nodded in agreement, wordless for the hundredth time.

He took a seat on the bleachers and finally glanced up at me. I was just slipped my left arm into my sweatshirt when his browns locked with mine. I felt paralyzed in the most innocent way possible.

Yeah, so much for friends!

"I like your sweatshirt," I commented desperately, taking a seat on the ground. I'm not sure how much time passed but all I know is that the colorful painted sky was now plastered with dark coats of multi-shaded blotches of blues and hedged with the brightest lights that not even any man-made imitation could ever beat.

"I like yours," he replied shortly, taking a seat next to me. We sat next to each other for more quiet seconds, our breathing light and the only sound that could be heard.

A dog barked in the distance and I almost smiled.

"I like your cleats," I added with a toothy grin.

"I like your smile."

"I like yours too," I admitted.

"I like you."

* * *

-:-

dh;

Had I really just said those three little child-like words? I'm no longer bullet proof, hell, I'm vulnerable and I might as well lay myself on a platter of vicious angry people and let them stab at me.

I'm _that_ vulnerable now.

_But it's just a bet…_

She looked at a loss for words and I wanted to punch myself literally in the face, right then, right now.

"I mean—"

We stared at each other and her breathing got silent. I think my heart might've stopped breathing the minute she smiled.

"We can't be together," she chided with a soft voice. She lay on her back and stared straight up ahead with endless glass of ambers.

"Why not?" I found myself demanding. I imitated her movements and soon I was sharing a blanket full of stars far from our touch with this girl.

She sighed. I felt ten times younger than I was.

_A bet…_

"Because, Derrick—I'm going to die." Her words were not gentle at all. She looked so small when I glanced at her.

"So?" I felt impatient. I felt as if things finally _clicked_ in this cliché spot and the world was finally spinning at the perfect pace and things were finally going to _be okay_ and I'm smacked with a truck of information and reality reminding me that this girl I'm becoming infatuated with is going to die.

The stars above us shimmered the way the water glitters when the sun hits it. I felt as if we were star-crossed lovers; the nights felt safe enough to admit feelings but during the day things were torrents of reality.

_A simple bet…_

Her tresses of this rich shaded silky brown just rolled off her shoulders and fanned this halo-like frame around her head. Her soft smile was something I was slowly and surely picturing when I closed my eyes. This was unhealthy.

"I said no." She firmly insisted.

_Bet…_

"What about Josh?" I sneered, shifting slightly under her unwavering gaze. She's one hell of an intimidating girl; I don't even think she realizes it.

"It's Josh…" She trailed with a touch of a frown.

"And I'm Derrick Harrington." I said the words with this repeated mantra, as if I were this asshole infamous Chuck Bass from…_Gossip Girl_. (Sammi used to make me watch them with her.)

"I know that," she shifted uncomfortably, effectively removing her eyes from my firm gaze. "But it's this no-strings attached kind of thing."

Error number one: always know what you're about to get yourself in.

"What if we did that?" I exclaimed wildly, sitting straight up.

_A flawless bet…_

The stars seemed to dim their watchful gazes.

"Like friends with benefits? No strings attached?" She sat up to, ran a hand through her hair and cocked her head to the left with an excited grin.

"Yeah," I nodded.

She pretended to think about it for a moment. She pondered while I realized my stupid careless mistake.

Error number two: remember things don't always work the way you want them to.

"Deal, Harrington."

She stuck out her small slender hand to shake it with mine but instead I leaned over and pressed my lips to hers.

Error number three: you're a dick for this, Harrington.

(a bet's a bet.)

-:-

* * *

I hope you enjoyed the chapter guys!

Thank you for the many reviews! We're almost to 100 reviews with this story! (:

Keep the reviews coming and I'll make time to update this story.

Review?

-another moment gone-


	16. i don't know what to do, do, do

**fi**re & _i__**c**_e

-:-

* * *

mb;

Things with Derrick seemed to be flowing effectively, fluently, and endlessly. It wasn't just the lonesome fact that he made my heart beat a hundred times harder and faster than humanly possible, or the fact that when he winked at me from across a classroom my cheeks burned—immediately crippling my next movements—but it was more so the fact that it was so effortless.

We both knew _exactly_ what we were getting into.

We sat under the big oak tree in the back of Briarwood Academy, our legs folded out in front of us, our faces upwards looking towards the tree.

Our 'friends with benefits' act has been going on for a solid month now. The best part about it was that there were no strings attached, I didn't have to commit, and Josh didn't know about it. I just told Josh I wanted to just be friends.

Derrick high-fived me and bought me ice cream for that one.

"This is the start of a beautiful friendship," I blurted. He laughed his friendly, genuine laugh and nodded in agreement.

I picked up a leaf and ripped it into little pieces.

"I—"

"I'm—"

Derrick smiled. "You can go first,"

I shook my head, "No, you first."

He smiled and nodded in a grateful way. "This past month has been really fun," he said. "I'm glad I get to have someone like you in my life."

I nodded in absolute agreement.

"I'm so glad we're friends," I said enthusiastically.

"Yeah," he said. "But I think since we're friends, you should know something."

I lifted my head and tried to catch his flighty gaze, he kept looking up at the tree or to his right where groups of people were sauntering by.

"What?" I pressed.

"," he sputtered, still not looking at me.

I shook my head, "What?"

He sighed. "Your mom and my dad are having an affair,"

This couldn't possibly be true; Kendra's a bitch but she would _never_ get over Dad that fast. Besides, she knows how much Derrick means to me—as friends.

"Derrick seriously," I snickered. "What'd you want to tell me?"

His eyes didn't waver when he looked at me.

"I'm serious."

His dead-serious tone freaked me out.

"Stop lying," I snapped.

He shot up to his feet, his hands raised in the air. "I'm _not_ lying, Massie."

He rarely used my first name.

"Derrick," I said with a shaky voice. "If you wanted to end this no strings attached charade, you could've just said so. You didn't need to make up this absurd lie."

I stood up and turned to leave.

He grabbed my arm and my life flip-flopped into cliché-town.

"Why would I ever want that?" He stared at me hard.

"Let go," I snapped.

"Answer the question, Block. Why would I ever want to get rid of you?"

I couldn't find my voice. How in the world could I find my voice when he was looking at me with those chocolate swirls, or when he was touching my arm and sending goose bumps all along my arm? He's supposed to just be my friend; he shouldn't be sending these childish butterflies in the pit of my stomach.

I didn't have time to respond because Josh had made his way to the oak and he was rolling up his sleeves.

"Let go of her."

Derrick rolled his eyes. "Block,"

"I'm serious, Harrington." I glared at him.

"Dude," Josh growled, yes, _growled_.

I squirmed under Derrick's hot touch. I wanted to run from this. I had never wanted to get away as desperately as I did now.

Josh pushed Derrick away from me, his touch immediately evaporating. Derrick pushed back, but it barely jostled Josh's huge figure.

Josh retaliated and flung a punch. He hit Derrick square on the cheek. Like all movies, Derrick gripped his face and he spat out blood. His puppy-like eyes stared helplessly at me. To my surprise, he didn't hit Josh in return.

"Leave me alone," I whispered, turning away.

"Block," he began trying to follow me.

Josh must've stepped in-between us because Derrick didn't chase me, to my utter and shocking dismay. I walked slowly away, as if this was slow-motion. Josh's low fast murmuring was fading as I trailed away.

* * *

-:-

* * *

"Kendra and Derrick's Dad," I snorted. "There's no way."

Skye didn't reply, she twirled her salad under the silver fork's tips. She never played with her food.

"What's your deal?" I snapped.

"Kendra wants you home," she replied without looking at me. She swiftly stood up with her trey, kind of cocked her head at me, than strode off to probably find Danny.

What?

I drove home with my stomach in a knot. How could Derrick do that to me? He _knows_ how much I hate Kendra's skanky ways. He also knows how much it would hurt to hear him say he doesn't want to be my friend anymore.

I opened the door with exaggerated slowness.

Kendra was getting hot and heavy with this blond haired man. He wore a blazer and his sandy blond hair was getting messy from Kendra's touches. The sounds they were making were appalling.

"Mom?"

When the blond mystery man turned around, I immediately sprinted out of the door without another word.

-:-

* * *

Sorry for the lack of an update. I'm kind of losing inspiration; writer's block? But I'd like to give a shout out to everyone or anyone who 'heart'ed' my story on figment. I won the Clique contest and I can't believe I did! Probably the most exciting day of my life(;

Thank you.

And I'm sorry about the poopy chapter. I'm so uninspired and I had to force myself to update this over the course of four days.

As always though,

-another moment gone-


	17. the colors of the summer sky

**fi**re & _i__**c**_e

-:-

* * *

mb;

I didn't think my legs moved very fast until now. I used to play lacrosse, and I ran track once, but it's funny because both sports required sprinting and I don't think I ever ran as hard as I did now when I played those sports.

Despite the previous things I just witnessed, and the accuracy of Derrick's words ringing dauntingly in my eardrums, all I knew in this very strange moment was that I just wanted to run far, far away.

Oddly enough, it didn't occur to me in the moment that Kendra should've been more kind towards my feelings. She should've known from the countless times Derrick came over to our house and sometimes slept over (on rare occasions) that something had been brewing between us. It didn't even really occur to me until now.

Now, it's clear as freaking daylight.

I like Derrick Harrington—possibly more than he likes me—and I _need_ to tell him. Now.

My legs lifted, my feet jumped in front of each other, my arms pumped back and forth, and before I knew it, I was standing outside the Harrington's beautiful house.

I rang the doorbell, forgetting all the times I walked straight into the Harrington's foyer without even ringing the doorbell.

"Hey," Sammi answered the door, her glossy hair pulled to the side of her neck. She was dressed in gray sweats and a tie-dyed hoodie.

"Hi, is Derrick home?"

She shook her head slowly, scrutinizing my face probably. I bet Derrick hadn't told her yet.

"Can I wait for him?" I asked.

"I don't think that's a very good ide—"

She let me in and I immediately bounded towards their stairs. The stairs I've ventured onto many times, slipped down, fallen up, and tripped over and been caught multiple times by Derrick's muscular arms.

Sammi's footsteps resounded against the wall behind me, her pace quicker than mine. "Massie, I wouldn't—"

Having her chase me only caused me to hurry up faster. And the minute I opened the door, I came face to face with the biggest bitch in the world: classic cliché cheating.

(I guess it wasn't technical cheating, considering we weren't even dating but still…)

The door flung open with a quick movement, I didn't even knock, and the image of Derrick on top of Dylan Marvil, making out hardcore, burned into my brain. Permanently.

"Wha—"

You know that feeling that your chest literally, physically, feels like its aching? It's as if you're getting a heart attack except the only thing running through your mind is the cause of your pain.

Up until the day I was told I had fatal cancer, I had wanted my very own perfect version of some sort of whacked out fairytale. I wanted my prince, but I didn't want him to be prince charming, I wanted him to be my very best friend. I wanted a homey house that was welcoming and I wanted three children, very beautiful, healthy, and brilliant. I wanted them to have my amber eyes, I wanted them to have their father's face, I wanted them to have my voice, their father's features, my touch, their father's smile.

But the day I was told my cancer was incurable, and I had a few mere years left to make the best out of my leftover dying life, the fairytale faded quickly. The cozy house was replaced with a large mansion, almost always vacant and never smelled like Thanksgiving feasts. The children were abruptly swapped with medications. The father…well I never really got to even imagine him.

My dreams were, to say at the least, stolen from my very palms.

The worst part about this whole Dylan/Derrick situation was that Derrick didn't hop off his bed in a flurry, he barely acknowledged me; only glancing half-heartedly at me then returning to Dylan's awaiting cherry red lips. He didn't even care.

Not anymore.

"I think you should leave," Dylan commented dryly from under Derrick's body. She lifted her head from his aggressive lips, moving around his figure and smirked with a victorious Cheshire grin intact. I couldn't find words.

Did I say him ignoring me was the worst part? No, let me amend that. The worst part was when he parted those familiar lips I had grown accustomed to kissing, and said those five bitingly cruel words.

"I think you should go."

And did I say I never ran as fast as I did, leaving my very own house?

Hell that needs to be amended too.

I never _bolted_ as fast and far as I did from the Harrington's household.

The prince-charming idea was quickly replaced with emptiness.

Oh, and bitchy headaches.

(and girls.)

-:-

* * *

What'd you think? (Yeah right, would I ever make Massie and Derrick a normal love-story. Psh.)

Thanks for the other reviews.

Do I get more reviews? (:

-another moment gone-


	18. all we need is a lover's alibi

**fi**re & _i__**c**_e

-:-

* * *

mb;

It was not a question of 'why' but rather a question of 'when.'

Derrick aside, Kendra's sleaziness aside, and Dad's death aside, my cancer was spreading and there was no denying. The day since I spotted Derrick, he hasn't made a single bit of effort to try and contact me and it was a damn good thing he didn't too.

Why?

Because if he tried to text me, call me, speak to me in person, IM me, or even look at me, I'd crack like a dam. I've spent this latest month without contact with this kid and my main focus was school and cancer. Well, medication anyway. Kendra wasn't bad enough not to make time to take me to the emergency room when I felt as if my head was about to combust into tiny little itty bitty pieces. At least she took the time to pry the doctors for their estimation on my timed death.

One of the worst things about Derrick's and my lack (or absolute no contact) of touch is probably the fact that my headaches and sickness is spreading faster. I don't understand why either, but Dr. Drey told me that my cancer has spread faster over this past month than any time before.

And anyone can guess the fallout after I sprinted out of the Harrington's house on that heartless evening.

As presumed, I ran home, pushing past Kendra's and Mr. Harrington's twined bodies, holding back the threatening tears, and then because I am a hormonal adolescent girl, I dramatically jumped onto my neatly made bed and let the tears drop like flies.

Then the rest after that fateful day seemed to blur like an unfocused camera.

Routines, why yes.

Wake up, take shower, get dressed, play with breakfast, get nauseous by the food, drive to school, go through class silent but speaking when necessary, numb even more whenever Derrick is spotted, resist the frighteningly strong urge to punch Dylan Marvil's bitchface, play with lunch, ignore Skye's questioning gazes, go through left over classes, drive home, do homework, finger food, put on PJ's, go to bed.

I'm quite the entertainer, aren't I?

But up until today, it never occurred to me: life moves on. (Even if life is timed with a clock that is ticking away, even during the most precious and hated moments.)

* * *

-:-

* * *

Lunch rolled over like it does every day, a sequined rhythm of a mutually constructed routine was intact. I sat next to Danny, who sat next to Skye (more like Skye on top of Danny but…), who had Kemp to her right, Plovert straight ahead, Cam to his right, Josh to Cam's right, and Dylan and Derrick were nested somewhere to the table's far left.

Kemp got up abruptly after glancing at me, and eyed Cam to follow him. They left without a parting glance in Derrick's favor. (Not that Derrick noted any of that.)

Their lips were locked and their tongues were tousled deep down in each other's throats.

Like usual, I excused myself from this nightmare and wandered aimlessly for the rest of the lunch.

I rounded a corner and found myself abruptly halting when I heard hushed rapid whispering.

"This is getting _beyond_ ridiculous, Fisher."

It was Kemp.

"I know that, Kemp. I just don't know how to smack sense into him," Cam grumbled. I poked my head around the corner and spotted Kemp and Cam standing with hands in pockets and wearing glares.

"He totally fucked us over," Kemp muttered bitterly.

"Yeah that's true," Cam agreed. "Does he even like that Dylan chick?"

Oh. They were talking about Derrick.

I was about to turn on my heel and walk away before I heard anything else but Kemp mentioned my name.

"I don't think so dude," Kemp shook his shaggy hair out of his eyes. "But Massie seems to be pretty upset."

Cam must've nodded his head because Kemp continued.

"I thought we had a bet," Kemp reminded.

Now I was beyond intrigued.

"We did, but Derrick bailed when he decided to end things with Massie."

Kemp mumbled some sort of reply and was about to shuffle in my direction but he stopped and turned towards Cam.

"I partly think Derrick won this bet, man."

Cam's face scrunched. "Why?"

"Because dude, Massie's so in love with him and it's clear he's gotten some action."

I've learned in the past few years that life's way too short to hold back your feelings. I've only got so much time on my hands.

"_Excuse_ me?" My outburst made Cam jump and even surprised me. Kemp simply turned blankly to gaze at me.

I stood with my hands on my hips, my knees wobbling slightly. I tried to look tough but deep down I don't think I've ever been so infuriated and hurt.

Except maybe when I was diagnosed with cancer.

"_It's a tumor, Mrs. Block. There's nothing we can do, m'am. I'm very sorry."_

"_Nothing?" Kendra asked with an eerily calm voice._

"_Nothing."_

Cam looked hesitant but from judging Kemp's straight forward, blatant face, it was clear he would tell me anything I wanted to know.

"We made a bet." He told me with lacking emotion.

I was beginning to feel my palms itch; some weird reaction I got whenever I was anxious.

"What kind of bet?"

Cam took a step forward, glanced from his left to his right, then took another step closer. "An action bet," he added.

I raised a brow.

The rest, well, they say was history—

No, hell, it was far from history. This, this is fucking history in the making.

-:-

* * *

A faster update, happy my anonymous reviewer?  
Signed reviews are great to see, I have no idea why anonymous reviews make me irritated. Hahah weird pet peeve, I guess.  
I hope you like this story because I'm thinking it needs to be ended soon.  
I'm sorry.):

But I have a new fic, "Fix me in forty-five" that will be my newest project!  
You will have to check that one out!

I appreciate all the reviews I get; they make my day.  
Please review?  
(cookie?)  
(:

as always though my darlings,  
-another moment gone-


	19. i know this hurts, it was meant to

**fi**re & _i__**c**_e

* * *

-:-

mb;

Time: time is a very strange subject.

There's always the dictionary definition, which is very straight forward and impossible to contradict; it's not questionable because it's written down in permanent print.

Time is a finitely measured; there's a beginning, the start of a flashing throbbing moment, a skip or a stumble of your heart, and always the clichéd unquestionable and undeniable evidence. Then there's a middle, which is pretty straight forward and clear. And finally, there's an end. The end was something we all know will come—it was inevitable to avoid—but when it hits, it hits hard. A strike in the chest, a final void being filled, or even a flutter that just combusts.

The end was coming soon.

And even I knew that.

(the naïve, luckless post-dreamer.)

* * *

-:-

* * *

dh;

Of course life was now a blanche routine. And despite the various glares I receive from my so-called-friends, I totally deserved what was about to hit me. And the routine always consisted of a redheaded girl: Dylan Marvil.

We rolled onto my bed, our lips locked, playing tonsil hockey; swapping spit.

"Der," she pouted when there was a knock on the door. I was on top of Dylan's small frame, her fiery red hair fanned around her face and I couldn't help but think of how beautiful she looked, but how much more beautiful Massie would look.

"Derrick," she repeated, her emerald-green-cat like eyes gazing at my red door. "Get the door."

She quickly pulled the covers over her exposed undergarments.

I walked in slow-motion towards the door, somewhat sleepy, somewhat spacey.

To my utter shock, it was Massie.

Massie freaking Block.

Sammi didn't even _warn_ me that was Massie was here! Usually she'll tell me if Massie rang the doorbell, called, or tried any contact and she'd dismiss Massie with some lame excuse.

But why didn't Sammi stop Massie now?

She walked in the door without a word, glanced hard at Dylan's clear smirk, and bit her lip in the cutest way possible.

"Um," she said.

She glanced at the carpeted floor, her hands ringing in a manner I knew was nervousness.

"Can we go for a walk, Derrick?" She stared hard into my eyes.

Ever since she caught me with Dylan, I ignored her occasional text, or the couple of missed calls, and I went out of my way just to avoid seeing her in the hallway with her gorgeously upset face.

Spending weeks avoiding her, I finally willed myself to look at the girl I intentionally wanted to play.

Her face was sallow, her usually shimmering amber eyes were dull and tired, her body was skinnier than usual and she kept ringing a green tag around her wrist. _A hospital bracelet…_

It could obviously only mean one thing: her cancer was spreading.

Mondays I ignored her occasional call, Tuesdays I ran from her like a coward in the hallway, Wednesdays I ignored her unmistakably signature jingle from her charmed bracelet, Thursdays I went the long way home with Dylan in the passenger seat so I wouldn't pass the soccer fields and see her playing, Fridays I avoided Dylan's accusing glare, Saturdays I listened to the radio and turned off every song that reminded me of her, or was her favorite, and Sunday…I owned her an explanation.

"S-sure."

"—Derrick," Dylan snapped, shuffling in my unmade messy bed.

"Piss off," Massie hissed out of the corner of her mouth. There was a flicker in her eyes and I knew this talk would not be a friendly discussion.

I didn't want to see Dylan's reaction.

"I'll call you later, Dyl," I tried.

Dylan, being shameless, got out of the bed in just her panties and bra and marched over to grab her clothes, and headed for the bathroom.

"You better," I heard her grumble.

"Bitch," Massie growled as Dylan stormed out the door.

Dylan turned to challenge Massie with her eyes, but Massie clearly over-ruled because her unmistakably hard dagger-like gaze was terrifying.

Dylan scooted out without another protest.

"Let's go," Massie mumbled, turning for the door without looking at me. She marched out and didn't wait to see if I was following.

Time: there was never enough of it.

(the two-faced, indecisive, fickle boy)

* * *

-:-

I figured you wanted to hear a Derrick spiel.  
And yeah, the story will be over soon…might as well leave the party while it's still going.(;

Thanks.

Review?

-another moment gone-


	20. i wanna push you around

**fi**re & _i__**c**_e

-:-

* * *

mb;

So what if my hands were sweating an unnecessary (and gross) amount of sweat? So what if the boy next to me is a total jerk? So what if he totally intentionally wanted to use me for some action?

I have freaking cancer and my dad died a few months ago…Derrick freaking Harrington had been the only thing on my mind these past few weeks.

* * *

-:-

* * *

We walked with an unusually awkward silence; my attempt at trying not to appear pissed was failing miserably because when he started talking about the weather and how the sky was overcast…I lost it.

"You can't seriously talking about the weather right now, Harrington." I exasperated.

He kind of turned pink and looked away, his hands jammed into his Diesel jean pockets. We walked on the sidewalk with a slow pace.

I realized to my blatant surprise that no one was around…they must be too smart to know the rain was ready to drop any moment now.

"Let's make this talk quick," I mumbled, glancing heartily around our surroundings. "I have some things to do."

"Like what? Take more painkillers?" He snapped. He stopped in his tracks. I did too.

The trees rustled around us and I could've sworn I saw a silent flash of bolting lightening.

Only fear I was feeling was the strong urge I had to kiss his familiar lips again.

"You said you wouldn't mind being friends with benefits," he sighed. I glared at him hard.

"Yeah—but I didn't _know _you were using me for some action." I retorted snidely.

He ran a hand through his blond disheveled hair and I wanted to wince in disgust; Dylan's filthy hands _ran themselves_ through his locks. _Uck_.

"It was stupid," he admitted sheepishly, glancing sharply at me. I hesitantly met his gaze.

I don't know what it was, maybe it was the medication, maybe it was the feeling of the cliché atmosphere I was practically choking from, maybe it was the fact I might have been PMS-ing, or maybe it was the blatant over-looked detail that I was going to die and I've shared my first kiss with a boy who didn't even want me.

I snapped—in half.

"Derrick, you are such an ass! You have no respect for girls, you obviously have no pride for yourself, you _used_ me. I have cancer Derrick," I hissed. "And you used me for some 'action,' how much more of a dick can be? Do you even know what it's like to be me?"

It was apparently his turn to crack.

"I never forced you to do _anything_," he exclaimed, hands waved up in the air. His eyes were on fire.

There was a loud bouncing strike of thunder, and a quick stunning moment of bright lightening.

There were drops of faint drizzly rain.

It felt good against my burning skin.

"You corrupted me," I insisted. "You don't even know what it's like to be in my shoes, Harrington. You, you don't even fucking know me."

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. "You make me out o be some evil pigheaded pervert that has no limits; newsflash Block—I _do_ fucking know you."

I wanted to scream. The case of this PMS or medication was causing my head to have the urge to combust, my knuckles were a raw white as I squeezed my fists tightly, and my throat was caught. I felt trapped under his flaming brown irises.

"No you don't," I claimed softly, feeling the anger release itself from my body. My voice was barely above a whisper now. "You don't have a clue."

He remained silent, his eyes fiery and dark with opposition burning.

"I don't have a clue what it's like to be you," he admitted with a measured tone, "But I do know you."

The rain began to come a little more consistently, but it wasn't enough to make us move from our spots.

"Derrick," I addressed. "You don't even know the half of it. I wake up every morning, wondering anxiously and apprehensively, _will I wake up tomorrow?_ I have had more than a hundred tubes and needles jammed into my forearm, my legs, my fingers, my arms—some without my consult. I wake up every fucking morning and find more and more hair on my pillow. Yes, I've tried chemo, no, it hasn't worked but my body is shutting down. Don't you get it Derrick? My body is shutting down without my freaking control. I am slowly going blind; my contacts barely suffice. My headaches are so brutal, I literally shriek with convulsing pain. And do you even understand the idea that I have to look into my own mother's troubled eyes, and realize how my condition and my father's death has now officially ruined her? I take care of her and I've got a fucking tumor spreading in my head. So no, Derrick, you don't know the half of it. You _don't_ know me."

I was shaking with so many emotions that I collapsed; my control, my boundaries, my will power…gone.

The wet droplets of water streaming down my face wasn't rain as I hoped, it was my very raw humiliated tears.

He didn't take a step forward, or a step backward. He stood with shaken wild browns, his hands curled, his hair messy and sticking to his forehead. The rain was falling harder now.

It took him some time to respond, but he took a seat next to me slowly.

We sat silently.

"I do know you," he insisted with a voice I didn't recognize.

"You don't Harrington, that's the problem—no one does." I stood up, my anger returning.

I was really wild.

The rain poured on our backs but we didn't seem to care. He stood up too, his legs trembling. I almost felt bad… almost.

But he didn't deserve my sympathy, and I honestly didn't want his.

Those brown orbs were drooping with absolute pity and I wanted to kick something.

All my life, I've kept my cancer a secret for a reason: I don't want anyone's sympathy.

It won't change a fucking thing.

"You're such an asshole!" I screamed, hitting his chest with my palm. I don't know why. I can't explain.

I just knew I was finally letting years of tension and anger out.

-:-

* * *

dh;

She hit my chest several times (some strikes actually hurting, no lies) and beat against me while she screamed and stomped and cursed like a sailor.

And honestly, she had every right to.

"You _dick!_"

"You asswipe!"

"You _doucheface!_"

"You buttface!"

Her swears would be comical if she weren't crying over a fucking tumor enlarging in her skull.

"And worst of all," she growled. "You _didn't even like me_. You used me." Her words were biting but untrue.

"No, I do," I insisted weakly.

"Stop lying!" She screamed with a pitch that would break a wine glass.

She pounded my chest and her weeping caused _me_ to want to cry.

Her mascara was streaming down her face, her raccoon eyes were smudged, her hair was everywhere and all tangled and we were both soaked to our bones.

She's never looked so beautiful.

"That was before," I shouted. "I think I fucking l-love you," I stammered now. "I don't know how this works, Block. I've never read any sappy fairy tales and I always hookup with girls that want one-night stands. I always run from this shit. It's fucking _terrifying_, Block. I'm a coward. A freaking coward."

No idea why I admitted that.

She didn't say anything, the only sound of our labored pants, the rain shattering against the concrete sidewalks, the occasional destructively harmless splashing cars.

We were a house of cards… tumbling down.

"I know so much about you now, Block," I continued. I took a deep breath and swallowed, pushing the knots in my stomach downwards.

"I know your favorite song is _Push _by Matchbox Twenty, I know you are absolutely terrified to die—despite your words and looks—I know you hate broccoli because it reminds you of Tree Stars from _The Land Before Time_, I know you hate uneven amounts of ice in your favorite drinks: iced tea without the lemon, I know you hate The Black Eyed Peas and I know you love me too."

She couldn't look me in the way and it was very clear that I should continue.

"Why would you love me?" She whispered, the rain streaming down her face and the droplets running from his knotted hair.

Her amber irises were piercing and I legitimately felt as if she could see right through me; I have never felt so vulnerable.

"The way you walk, the way you speak, the way your eyebrows crinkle when you're pissed, the way you smile extra wide when I kiss you, the way we can stare at the stars all night and not say a word and it isn't awkward or strange…but rather, normal. I'm probably sounding gay, or foolish or feminine for all of this shit, but Block, I don't think I've ever felt this fucking scared before."

I don't know what it was, but with this rain hitting our bodies, the lightening silently illuminating the sky around us, the thunder filling our empty voids, I have never felt so freaking strong.

Her tears and the rain were mixing and I wanted to kiss her.

But I didn't have to because she jumped me.

It was a scene straight out of _The Notebook_ (Sammi made me watch it, I swear. She tied my hands to the couch!)

And in the following moments, along with the best kiss of my mere short life, I realized I never wanted this to end.

And I have never been so grateful for my friends' pigheaded, ill-mannered bets.

In between kisses, I vowed I'd stand by her side through this truculent wall. I promised I'd be there no matter what, even if Kendra didn't know how to be there for her. I swore to my old dog Smash's grave that I'd be there with her, holding her hand, when she finally passed.

And I have never been this honest ever.

-:-

Yes, Massie Block is going to die at the age of sixteen. Yes, Massie Block will never be able to pass the drinking age, or go to a wild sorority, or dance on the table with her drunken friends, or study at Harvard, or experience marriage, or even live to makes babies, watch them grow up, have lives of their own…

Yes, Massie Block was going to die.

-:-

* * *

Long chapter.  
Emotional, I know, I'm sorry.

Review?

Epilogue is next.

Thank you so much for everything, so, so so, much. I am so eternally grateful.(:

-another moment gone-


	21. you put your arms around me: epilogue

**fi**re & _i__**c**_e

-:-

* * *

_The Epilogue._

Arms by Christinia Perri

* * *

dh;

I used to think that I was an exception: preferably, _the _total and utter exception to love. It seems silly and dryly humorous to look back at my previous adolescent memories: swings, skype, cell-phones, cliques, gossip, secrets, girls, comebacks, music, clothes—everything. Looking back, I thought I was hot shit.

Literally… I used to look in the mirror every morning before school, comment on how sexy I looked; wink in the mirror, then stroll out to my awaiting sports car. Life was so damn easy.

Then of course, Massie Block stumbled into the picture, dragging along a swirling abyss of endless clichés; with brown silky tresses, striking amber irises, a vibrant unforgettable smile, a humming laughter, quick disses, and tantalizing fingertips she was so damn perfect. Perfection at its finest.

Of course being young then, dares and bets were all that kept us Briarwood Academy kids intact. We were risqué asses that thought we were _bosses_.

There were always bets that led to one thing or another; usually resulting in the person who took the doubt, regretting their actions and/or getting sent to the principals for some mighty discussions (sometimes involving wicked punishments. i.e. no soccer practice + game suspension.)

I stood in the doorway of the doors that led to so many troubles, misjudgments, misconceptions, and a lot of other big 'm' words. But the most important M that struck me fascinated and unforgotten was Massie Block.

Of course standing in the hallways of Briarwood Academy for the first time in ten years would strike anyone to feel nostalgic. I shouldn't have been surprised—and I definitely shouldn't have had felt a dwindle of what people would refer to as 'the dropping of a heart'.'

Massie Block died on a Tuesday. It was Tuesday, April 3rd. My entire life seemed to play out in a very, _very _clichéd pattern. But the one thing that wasn't cliché about it was Massie's timed death, when it wasn't pouring acid rain.

It didn't rain when she died; I didn't even get to drop to my knees in the pouring rain and shout at the sky and God for cursing me with shitty luck, no, I was stuck with swallowing and promising to attend her funeral.

The funeral had been very short but like a good cliché classic, many, many people were there to pay their respects to the young sixteen-year-old girl who died a little too young.

Her parents took turns speaking with tears in their eyes; I swallowed any pride I had left and cried, but I wasn't alone. Danny Robbins, Cam Fisher, Kemp Hurley, Chris Plovert, Josh Hotz, Skye Hamilton and the hundreds of other Briarwood Academy stood in that sunny graveyard with tears leaking down their flawless faces.

Looking towards present day, I am now currently engaged to Skye Hamilton.

Sure anyone could think it's wicked that I'd date my ex-lover? Ex-girlfriend's best friend?

Sure.

But if only they were there one early April morning when Massie Block gazed into my eyes with the most sincere, heart-wrenching earnest look of sincerity.

"_I'll always be there, even when I'm really not…"_ She had smiled her half-smile, sadness aching in frail paper-thin grooved cheeks.

"_It's okay to move, D."_

Our last kiss was one I can still feel on my lips, the lingering tingles from ten years post, the smile against our lock, the last final touch still hot on my skin.

"_I love you, Harrington. But this talk is too serious,_" She had touched my cheek with her weakened bone thin hand.

The whisper of her _I love you_ fresh and hot like a fingerprint; in fact, it was a fingerprint.

It was _our_ fingerprint.

* * *

-:-

Braced and hugging unguarded old friends, old familiar smiles, old familiar warming scents, warm unchangingly familiar touches.

Our ten-year school anniversary was just what no one expected, but rather presumed without a trace of doubt.

* * *

-:-

"Hey, congrats," Claire Lyons hugged Cam Fisher with a familiar soft touch.

The touch left Cam Fisher tingle and smile like he was an adolescent boy again.

Dylan Marvil wrung her manicured piano-fingers tightly around intertwined fingers of Kemp Hurley; he looked down at her with adoring accepting brown irises.

Danny Robbins flashed a familiar comforting smile in Skye Hamilton's direction. She returned it with a delicate finger wave.

Alicia Rivera grinned a friendly heartbreakingly beautiful smile in Josh Hotz's noticed direction; presumptions already tagged.

And me?

Well I kissed the gray cool marble with soft lips, closed my eyes, and inhaled through my nose then exhaled out my mouth. My lips curved upwards in a familiar lopsided grin.

"I love you," I whispered to the wind.

In that silent moment, I knew she heard me because the wind danced circles around my kneeled body.

Motionlessly I placed a purple, custom dyed lily on her headstone.

The wind swirled a few more dances around me with a more quickly paced fluent force.

Yeah, she definitely heard me.

"_I love you too_."

_fin._

_-_:-

* * *

Thank you to everyone.  
A huge shout out to:

This-is ignorance, Lost in Starlight3, glitteringlights, Cela Fille, KrazyInLove, Would-You-Go-With-Me, alicehart1234, .Faith, all the lost souls, person (who told me my story was named after a condom brand…awesome), alli amour, Jane Doe, ., Briony-Rose, found & lost, Brocklyn16, kangaruru, KatFrye, hana, gallghergrl 3, burning rainbows3, lovetheclique, WakeMeUpWhenItsYesterday, allie, AlwaysLightThroughTheDarkness, adrannaameii, DancingintheRayne, Millie, *all the anonymous, Alice, skyeblue221, Adie, ixdookiie, ChocoPrep, Ally, , luggfubf, mayesha1771, MissVanilla, Lily, Loviess, MassieLovesPurple17261, coolingDawn, I can't keep my eyes offa you, shortyshur, Skylar566, Sammyy, Ahjgr, Funny boo, FaithInMe, and falling through midnight.

Thank you to all of you, you guys made it bearable to write as frequently as possible—even when I didn't—thank you so much for making writing worth it.(:

If you liked this story, be sure to check out my spring project: "Fix me in forty-five"

That's all for now though! Cant believe this story is over…):

Hope the ending wasn't awful…

As always,

-another moment gone-


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